


Young Gods

by sincewewereeighteen



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Also bickering, Alternate Universe, Blow Jobs, Bottom Harry, Bottom Louis, Closets are for CLOTHES, DJ Niall, Fashion World, Flirting, Friendship, Harry Styles/Mentions of being with other male characters, Hate to Love, Hotshots, Kinda, Light Angst, Louis Tomlinson/Other Male Characters, Love, M/M, Minor Character Death, Model Louis, Modest Management - Freeform, Nick Grimshaw kinda helps Harry, Rimming, Sassy Louis, Sex, Singer Zayn, Smut, Top Harry, Top Louis, Young Gods, a lot of bickering, a lot of flirting, happiness, journalist liam, mentions of drug use, models au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-04
Updated: 2016-02-17
Packaged: 2018-04-30 01:10:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 77,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5144786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sincewewereeighteen/pseuds/sincewewereeighteen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Why don’t you stay?” Harry looked down at him and snorted. “What?”<br/>“You’re not my type, Louis”, the boy rolled his eyes sitting on the edge of the bed to put on his boots.<br/>“Says the man you just had sex with”, Louis pointed feeling smart, but Harry was one step ahead of him, with the answer on the tip of his tongue.<br/>“You see, if you were my type, I wouldn’t have”, Harry winked, cheeky as hell. “I would’ve gotten to know you first.”<br/>“Bullshit”, he accused the boy not letting it show how intrigued he was. “How can you know I’m not your type if you don’t know me?”<br/>“How about I list five things about you to prove I’m right and if any of them are false I’ll lie down again.”<br/>“Ok. Go.”</p><p>[Or: the one in which Louis is a model and Harry's supposed to be a normal guy... Until he isn't.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [larryhatesana](https://archiveofourown.org/users/larryhatesana/gifts).
  * Translation into Polski available: [Young Gods](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7485981) by [luixrry](https://archiveofourown.org/users/luixrry/pseuds/luixrry)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m the king of everything, and oh, my tongue is a weapon. There’s a light in the crack that’s separating your thighs, and if you wanna go to heaven you should fuck me tonight.” Young God, Halsey.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the [Spanish Version](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12445599/chapters/28322199) by Alaia Lopez 
> 
> Here's the [Polski Version](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7485981/chapters/17013921) by [luixrry](http://archiveofourown.org/users/luixrry/pseuds/luixrry)
> 
> Here's the [Russian Version](https://ficbook.net/readfic/4522548) by [larrysflowers21](http://archiveofourown.org/users/larrysflowers21/pseuds/larrysflowers21)                                      

 

TOMLINSON, Louis William

**Height:** 5 ft 9 or 175cm

**Weight:** 150 Ibs or 68kg.

**Nationality:** English

**Birthdate:** December, 24 th

**Status:** established

**Known for:** eyes, sassiness

**Agency:** Modest Management

**Famous Friends:** R &B singer Zayn Malik, footballer Stanley Lucas

Modest Management’s greatest asset and accomplishment, and Simon Cowell’s biggest pride. At the age of 22, he’s been in the business since 2009, after trying out at a handful of TV stations, when his drama teacher advised him to give up on being an actor because he was _too much of a twink_ to ever make it in this world, and gave him a few model agencies numbers and addresses. He was seventeen and in desperate need of money, so he tried out for all of them and wound up hired for a teenage winter calendar. The rest, as they say, is history.

 

The first time Louis meets Harry he falls in love. Well, not love, but he’s _definitely_ infatuated. And this is how it went:

 

**June, 2014**

 

“I cannot _believe_ you’re making me wear _Armani_ again, Eleanor”, he huffed already exhausted. It was still 4pm. “It’s outdated, I’m not fifty... And I don’t even _like_ this collection, it doesn’t even _fit_ well.” He said pulling on his Calvin Klein boxers while his assistant slash stylist slash guardian angel took the trousers out of the hanger.

“Look, Louis, it’s a smart move, okay? The man himself is gonna be there”, she reasoned.

“Yeah, but he’s eighty-one, does he even _know_ who I am? Does he even recognize his own suits?” He asked feeling impatient, trying his best not to mess up his hair. He wasn’t in the best of moods.

Eleanor laughed and dismissed him, saying that his clothes were waiting to be worn and that the car would come at six thirty to pick him up. Louis couldn’t wait to be back on his bed, having to fly to New York the next day. He loved his life, he really did, he just truly hated it sometimes.

Louis was the kind of person who would totally judge a model if he weren’t one. Looking from the outside everything was easy and shiny and maybe it actually _was_ if compared to “normal people’s lives”, his conscience would say. But in reality, in his reality, being a model meant absurd hours and frozen-smiles; it meant too much finesse and too little fun – believe it or not.

When he first received his contract, many years ago, it was pretty clear he would never be a runaway model and the reason was pretty clear: he was too short, too curvy, but he still had _something_. “I haven’t seen anyone photograph this well since Timothy” _,_ Andrew G. Hobbs had said. “Your features are so symmetric, I’d dare say you have a perfect face”, _click_. Back then Louis had been just _so_ excited to work with him that he could barely thank the guy, just smiling and trying not to throw up.

His career didn’t escalate quickly, though. It took him a year of small pictures and zero to none pieces on important magazines, but one day Simon decided he was ready to pose for Vogue in the – back then – new H&M collection. Alice Hawkins photographed him and gave his face a full page. People got interested. Two months later he was on the cover of GQ Magazine wearing Burberry, getting paid more money than he had ever seen and being invited to the most exclusive parties, meeting all kinds of people.

Louis lived a whole new level of _rich_ these days, one he didn’t even believe was possible. He was the third most well paid model in the world and the most expensive one in Modest’s history – Simon had had to raise his salary after Mega Model Agency tried to steal him two years ago. He had people. He had a “guy” for everything; and most of the time his _guy_ was a girl, but that was fine because Louis was all about girl power.

Speaking of…

“You ready?” Eleanor asked. He hadn’t even buttoned the shirt up yet. “Fuck, Louis, c’mon, make up is here”, she let him know and he decided it was best if he were shirtless after all.

 

Forty minutes not so fashionably late Louis arrived at the mansion Simon had rented for the party, where a line of black town cars were lined up. There were too many paparazzi, but he barely blinked when he made his way to the main entrance, already used to the flashes.

Modest was completing 25 years and although it was considered too _young_ in the market, it was already influential, especially in the UK. Its headquarter was located in London, of course, but they had two other buildings – one in New York City and another one in Milan. Simon had built an empire worth of four hundred million dollars and knew how to celebrate it.

 

As soon as Louis entered the ballroom, Lauren, Simon’s wife, walked on his direction for hugs and kisses and _mise-en-scéne_.

“Dear, long time no see”, she said, taking two champagne flutes from a passing waiter’s tray, handing him one immediately. “How are you?”

“I’m great”, he replied, game face on. “Tired, but great.”

“I hear you’re flying to New York first thing in the morning?”

“Yes, I have a shoot there the day after tomorrow, plus my friend’s playing at the Madison Square Garden on the weekend, so.”

“Zayn Malik, right?” She asked trying to disguise her obvious disgust for his friend. “You’re good friends?”

“The best”, Louis gave her his best smile.

“Hm… The companies you walk around with, Tomlinson”, she laughed.

“You don’t seem to dislike Stan”, Louis pointed. “But that may be because he’s Beckham’s puppy and you guys have been trying to get Brooklyn to sign with Modest since he was sixteen”, he said as politely as he could. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I believe I see some other _friends_ across the room.”

Lauren gave him one of those yellow smiles she herself used to distribute and he made his way around, talking to everybody he knew and waving at the people who clearly knew who he was but he hadn’t been introduced to yet. He knew everyone who was relevant, though.

After talking to Simon for five minutes and getting to know three potential new models he’d get to get to know a few weeks from now at the annual meeting – in which Simon would make him “help out the new people around” (and by that he meant: “teach them how to play by _my_ rules”) –, Louis could finally make his way outside.

It was freaking hot in the UK and he was stuck in a suit. He saw Alexa Chung by the pool and went to say hi. She was good fun and nothing like the stuck up people in their world. All in all, Louis thought he knew how to choose his companies pretty well, thank you very much, Lauren.

“Versace fits you well, my dear”, he said getting closer to her.

“Well thank you, love”, she smiled and gave him a kiss. “It’s good to see you, Louis”, Alexa said eyeing him head to toes. “You look exhausted.”

“Haven’t gotten properly drunk yet”, he said more like an excuse than anything else. He _was_ exhausted, but he never liked to show… Anything, really.

“Now would be a great time to get to the bar”, Eleanor showed up by his side wearing an amazing dress Louis couldn’t quite point the designer. It was probably one of her not-yet-famous-but-promising friends’ work. “Hi, Alexa”, she smiled.

“Looking dashing as ever, Eleanor”, she smiled and they hugged briefly. Everyone was so _friendly_ for British people. Again, Louis blamed it on their world. “You should totally date your assistant, Louis, become a huge beautiful cliché.”

“I would, if she had a penis”, he winked and both of the girls laughed loudly and Eleanor nodded her head disapprovingly, as if she couldn’t believe the things Louis was capable of saying. “Oh come off it, you’ve known me for forever now”, he said.

“Never cease to surprise me”, she said. “Go to the bar, Louis”, Eleanor pointed in the direction of Giorgio Armani himself and Louis rolled his eyes.

“He doesn’t even know me, this is pure bullshit”, Louis warned her pointing to his clothes and then in the direction of one of the most powerful men in fashion.

“He’s not your regular eighty-one year old guy”, Alexa told him. “First time I met him he said I’d end up working for a magazine and here I am, editing for Vogue”, she said. “He’s got vision.”

“Well of course he does or he wouldn’t have built a fucking empire”, Louis muttered. “Ok, I’m going there and getting super drunk. See you later, ladies. Or not.” He smiled and walked over to the bar asking right away for the strongest drink in the house.

 

“You know, your looks will fade-away, Tomlinson”, Giorgio spoke to him turning with a smile on his face.

_Oh. He knows who I am. Fuck, Louis, breathe_.

The thing was: Louis didn’t have to _love_ the new Armani collection to acknowledge that that man was an inspiration. A genius. A fucking God. And he knew who Louis was. Okay. He was breathing. He was fine.

“Yours haven’t, so I can hope”, he responded not quick enough but with the right amount of _flirt_ to his tone, making Giorgio laugh and study him for a few seconds.

“You’re lucky my partner isn’t here”, he said.

“Actually, I’m not”, Louis frowned, doing his best to still seem charming, “it would’ve been an honor to meet him.”

“Maybe you can”, he smiled satisfactorily, “I have an invitation for you, one I came to deliver in person… And Simon thinks I’m here for his extravaganza, but, shhh”, he said.

“Hm- excuse me”, a voice came from across the bar, “your drink, sir”, the guy said and Giorgio turned to give him attention, so Louis did the same and holy mother of God who _was_ that?

Louis didn’t have time to concentrate or even assess the guy properly because Giorgio had already resumed to talking again and Louis knew how to keep his priorities in check. Kind of.

“How would you like a trip to Milan by the end of the month?” He asked.

“What kind of trip?” Louis asked taking a sip of his _cuba libre_.

“A business one”, he told him. “I see you can wear my suits, Louis”, Giorgio continued and _he called me my first name this is actually happening do not freak out now_ , “the question is, can you wear everything else?”

“Uhn--- where is this going?”

“We have been talking about the spring collection and _yes_ we know it’s last minute but we’ve had- problems. Your name came up in a lot of meetings and one of my assistants told me you’re not easy to be persuaded, so that’s the main reason I’m here.”

And Louis would have _loved_ to have understood everything he was saying, if it hadn’t been for a curly haired bartender Louis was too aware of at the moment.

“I’m- uhn. What can I do for you?”

“Model for us, of course”, he said, “lead our spring collection for men.”

“I don’t do runaways, though”, he made it clear and took another sip of his drink. “I’m not sure if I can _lead_ a campaign.” Lie. He’d led quite a few at that point, but for brands he actually _enjoyed_ , _modern_ brands. As much as he respected the company, he wasn’t sure he’d feel comfortable modeling for people he was often criticizing.

“Tomlinson, you and I know you can.” Giorgio accused him.

“I’d-uh, like time to think, if that’s okay, sir”, he finished.

“Here’s my card, my personal number’s in there”, he said and slipped Louis a paper card. _Do people still use this_? _I think so_ , he concluded holding that one. “I’ll have my people contact your people, but think about it.” And he left, like that, leaving Louis gaping and in need of much more alcohol.

Saying no would probably make him seem too much of a snob. Saying yes could paint him as antiquated as people were saying Armani had become and end his career.

“Scotch, neat”, he turned to the bar. Curly haired was looking at him like he was an alien.

“You just said no to Giorgio Armani”, he said in a raspy voice and then moved to get another glass. Was that his normal voice? Did people actually _sounded_ like that in _real life_?

“I said I would think about it”, Louis defended himself.

“Will you?” The guy asked and handed him his drink.

“Of course, I just-”, _why am I even telling you this?_ “need to think a few things through.”

“You’re insane”, the guy laughed. “But I guess being  Louis Tomlinson allows you to actually turn down a personal invitation from Giorgio Armani.”

“I did _not_ turn down”, he said trying to be impatient but just really endeared. The guy seemed mesmerized by the situation. Not that Louis wasn’t, he was just… _Less_ than the curly haired boy.

Somebody called him. The boy, not Louis. And he had to turn away to prepare another drink, which gave Louis the perfect opportunity to ogle his perfect body from a good distance.

He was tall. At least five centimeters taller than Louis, and his hair was long, and seemed silky and soft and Louis desperately wanted to pull it. And as the night went on, things just got more interesting, as Louis decided he wanted to have that red mouth with plush, _plush_ lips wrapped around his cock and maybe bury his fingers in his ass and what even _were those legs_?

He wasn’t wearing a uniform like the other bartenders and waiters. The guy was in the skinniest jeans Louis had ever seen and a black button up with white hearts all over it that Louis thought would look ridiculous in anyone but him.

_He got drunker_. On his fourth glass of whisky he decided he needed some water and curly haired was happy to please, finally on Louis’ side of the counter again.

“Still here, I see.”

“This is the best place of the party”, Louis replied.

“And why’s that?” The guy asked like he _knew_ Louis had been watching him. Had he been this obvious? Probably yes. Zayn used to say Louis couldn’t lie to save his life when he had alcohol in his system – which differed drastically from his sober masked self.

“Why d’you think?” He asked and smiled hoping he wasn’t sounding too creepy.

“I think you’ve been staring at my legs for quite some time now and I feel flattered, honestly”, he smiled.

“Aren’t you too confident, curly?” Louis asked and smirked.

“Hopeful”, he corrected and turned around so he’d answer a girl’s call on Louis left. Damn. It took him less than five minutes to come back. Louis was back to drinking whisky. “You’re gonna pass out that way”, mile long legged curly guy said.

“You’ve no idea how tolerant I am”, Louis told him. “Drunk, yes, passing out… Never. I guess.”

“You guess.”

“If it happened, I don’t remember.”

The guy laughed. A loud laugh that resounded above all the noise and got to Louis’ ears like music, pure melody. Right then and there Louis decided he’d never heard anything as special as that. What _was_ happening with him?

“I’m Harry, by the way”, he introduced himself and before Louis could say anything, a big guy came behind him.

“So sorry, H, got stuck in traffic and I—”

“’S fine, Mark”, _Harry_ said. “Just get started, yeah?” Big guy said _of course_ and thanked him one more time, nodding a _hi_ to Louis.

“See you around, Tomlinson”, Harry smiled and left the bar.

This wouldn’t be the last time Louis saw him at this party, even if he had to actually _look_ for him – which he was drunk enough to do.

 

Louis was dancing. He’d found some models that had worked with him in the latest Adidas campaign and they were good fun, so they did some shots together and went to the dance floor where Modest employees were politely moving without actually taking their feet off of the floor. But Louis was having fun. Alcohol did wonders to him.

Eleanor would occasionally throw him a “be careful” glance because she knew he’d never be able to wake up the next day unless he managed to get to bed until two am. Louis checked his phone and it was barely midnight, so he pocketed it once again and Lucca-- was it Lucca?! came behind him and moved their hips according to the music.

Louis threw his head to one side smiling brightly trying to not let his drink spill when he saw it. Him. Again. The curly mile long legged guy. Harry. Harry was his name, Louis could remember. He was talking to Nick and they were both smiling and _no_ , Louis thought.

Nicholas Grimshaw was Simon’s assistant. Every once in a while Simon would find a new administrative puppy and make them his second best, just so he’d get bored after a few years and move on to the next nice thing. Nick came in two years after Louis was hired and he took great dislike for the guy at first talk. Despite his impeccable taste in clothes, he was a terrible human, Louis thought.

And now he was talking to Harry. But Harry was already Louis’s and he’d be damned if Nick put his claws on that boy. No way.

He moved his legs quicker than his mind could process and he was next to them in a heartbeat.

“Well if it isn’t almighty Tomlinson”, Nick said smiling smugly.

“Grimshaw”, he acknowledged his presence with a nod and turned to Harry with his brightest smile. “Nice to see you again, Harry, it’s been a while”.

“I’m sure your hour and a half without my presence was unbearable”, Harry rolled his eyes.

“You two know each other?” Nick asked like he was genuinely surprised, but didn’t let anyone answer. “I was just congratulating Harry here on the amazing job he did with the food… Everything’s amazing.”

“Oh you…” Louis started.

“I was just filling in from a friend who was late, as you saw--- but, yeah, I took care of dessert and, like, stuff”, he shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal. Harry didn’t look like the most confident of people, even if he seemed to have his moments. Louis was so curious about him.

“Well, now that I know _you’ve_ made it I have to taste it, right?” Louis threw him a cheeky smile and waited for Harry to blush, but he didn’t, which was somewhat a nice surprise.

Louis was used to leave some people star struck, even if he were just a regular guy, if he said so himself. Harry didn’t seem disturbed, though, just gave him a show of white teeth and perfect lips curving upwards, a low tiny laugh in the back of his throat.

“I promise you everything I touch tastes pretty good”, he winked.

“God, I cannot stand the innuendos”, Nick rolled his eyes, voice affected. Louis wants to ask him _why the fuck don’t you fuck off then?_ but he didn’t even need to, cause next thing he knew, Grimshaw was petting Harry on the shoulder as excusing himself.

Louis wanted to ask if Harry knew Nick before, if they were friends or if Nick was simply hitting on him just like Louis had attempted to at the bar a couple of hours earlier, but he decided that it’d be better to carry own with his plans than to initiate a conversation about one of his least favorite people in the world – and this list was _big_.

“So, Harold, will you let me taste you then?” He asked. “I mean--- the things you’ve made?”

Louis smirked and for the first time that night Harry seemed affected. Finally.

“My name’s _Harry_ ”, he replied in a low voice. “And I will let you taste both, if you play your cards right.”

“”M a great player, _Harold_.”

“Right”, Harry snorted and started walking, leaving Louis a bit light-headed and stuck in one place. But then he looked back and asked _you coming_? And yeah, Louis was.

“Where are we going?” He asked when Harry got out of the saloon and walked past the bar as well. Louis was following suit.

“The kitchen”, Harry kept walking.

“You do know you could just point to passing waiters and I’d taste it anyway, right?”

“Yeah”, the tall guy threw him a smile and opened a silver door, revealing a lot of other people in white clothes. They were all screaming about something, trying to communicate over the outside noise and their own voices and Louis asked himself if Harry dealt with that every day.

Some of them stopped to look at Louis as he followed Harry, but none of them seemed to actually _know_ who he was, so he didn’t say a word, just waited for Harry to stop near a counter and say something to a blond guy, but he couldn’t understand.

“Stay put”, Harry said and _oh_ , Louis actually obeyed.

There were a lot of bodies moving, waiters and waitresses entering and leaving the kitchen, the door making noise every time it was opened and closed. There was the blond guy giving directions to two older guys and a few girls decorating a dessert.

But somehow Louis couldn’t focus in any of them, just watched the lanky guy move around those bodies like he was at home, grabbing something from each counter and putting on a--- was that a box? Louis couldn’t see.

“’M gonna be taking theeeese”, Harry said to the girls who were working on the dessert thing-y, “cause they don’t look right anyway.”

“Harry”, one of the girl sighed.

“I love you”, he kissed her cheek, “and you can do better. Going. Do not screw up, do not call me.”

“Thank you, boss”, another girl responded with an ironic tone and Harry blew her a kiss, walking towards Louis with not only a box full of things but a bottle of wine Louis did not know. He was drunk enough already, but… He could go back to sobriety the next day, right? He wasn’t drinking because of the pain that night, anyway, so it didn’t count.

“Follow me”, Harry said. Louis seemed to be doing a lot of that already.

 

They walked to the back of the mansion. There was a beautiful yard and the lights were dimmed. The noise wasn’t even bothering him, but maybe because Harry’s laughter was louder and made him warm all over. That was _dangerous_ because Louis was really just looking for a quick fuck, he sure as hell didn’t want to start liking the guy or anything like that.

His self-sabotaging mind decided it was time to end the chit-chat when he finally tasted the last delicious candy Harry had made and asked for the wine.

“No glass?” Louis raised a brow. “A bit too shabby, Harold”, he teased.

“Oh, can’t the almighty Louis Tomlinson drink from the bottle?” Harry placed a hand on his heart with a ridiculous affected tone to his amazingly raspy voice. Fuck, Louis was confusing adjectives now; it was just _ridiculous and affected_. “I’m so sorry if my standards are too peasant for you.”

“I’ll manage”, Louis said closing his mouth around the tip of the bottle and making a show at drinking the wine. Harry was a bit flushed, eyes focused on Louis throat and mouth. “What?” He smiled eyeing Harry when he decided he’d had enough.

“You look good like that”, Harry said, getting close to him. They were sitting on the grass and Louis was sure his _Armani_ suit was dirty already. He had zero fucks to give about it.  “Something tells me your mouth looks great wrapped around other things.”

“Says the one with the plush lips”, Louis answered in a low voice, moving a bit closer, their thighs touching. Harry moved forward.

“You like my lips?” Harry asked licking them and roaming his eyes through Louis’ face. From eyes to mouth.

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

“I haven’t tasted them yet”, Louis said and surged forward, cutting off the distance between them.

If Harry were waiting for it, he didn’t give any indications – on the contrary, he let out a surprised noise in the back of his throat and grabbed the lapel of Louis’ blazer, pulling him closer so their chests were connected.

The angle was weird, because they were previously sitting side by side, but Harry’s lips were _so_ good and his grip so firm and Louis didn’t want to do anything but keep kissing the hell out of him. Well, that wasn’t completely true. Louis wanted so much more.

“Get up”, he murmured to Harry’s mouth and only let him go so they could stand on their feet, pulling him closer again and tangling his hands on his mop of curls, clashing their lips together with urgency, the build up from the entire night catching up to them. Harry wasn’t shy at all, and Louis _loved_ it. “It’s your time to follow me”, Louis said and pulled him by the hand.

“Where are we going?” Harry asked already panting and trying to keep up.

“This is a mansion”, Louis explained, still walking. “It ought to have many rooms.”

And yeah, it had _many_ rooms. It should have been difficult to sneak into one of them, but it was one am, everyone was already too drunk to care or too caught up in their own affairs to actually give a shit to whatever Louis wanted to do. He saw Simon and his wife on a far corner making conversation with a Vogue rep and thanked the gods that they weren’t looking his direction.

“Is this allowed?” Harry asked in a low voice when they got to the second floor after running up the stairs.

“Course not”, Louis whispered pinning him to a wall and kissing his neck hotly, hands wandering on his body and feeling how _great_ Harry was. Sinful, really. His body was lean and defined and Louis could not wait to get him naked.

His mouth already looked spent after a few minutes kissing and his hair was all messed up cause Louis couldn’t control himself. Harry grabbed his shoulder and pushed him back, breathing heavily and opening the door by his side.

“God, you’re hot”, Harry pulled Louis by the waist, moving his hands quickly to Louis’ ass and walking backwards with him until he hit the bed. And then Louis’ felt it. Harry’s dick. He was so _hard_ , how was he so hard? But then one of Harry’s huge – like, _huge_ – hands cupped Louis through his suit trousers and Louis made himself aware of how hard he himself was.

Louis supported himself with both hands by Harry’s head and kissed his mouth once again, moving down to his neck sucking bruising kisses from one side to another, leaving Harry panting below him and making an effort to remove his clothes. Louis was totally down for it, and did the same to the boy.

The logistics were terrible because he was a little more than drunk, but Harry was sober and helped him through it.

“Why are your jeans so tiiiiight?” Louis complained, kissing below his navel already completely naked, trying to remove Harry’s trousers.

“To make my legs look—aahh---good”, he said with a smirk and helped Louis with it.

“Well, they sure do”, Louis whispered not looking him in the eyes and kissed his inner thigh, massaging his bulge and making Harry moan with each squeeze.

“Lo-Louis”, Harry called, voice broken and Louis removed his pants.

“Jesus”, Louis stared in wonder when Harry’s cock slapped against his stomach.

Cocks weren’t _pretty_ objectively speaking, but Harry’s… Well. No, Louis was just drunk. And everything about that boy was just too good, so his cock should not be a surprise. Louis was still mesmerized.

He went up Harry’s body, sucking on his nipples and stroking his dick with intent before kissing him again, wetly and hotly and so forcefully that if Harry weren’t so responsive with his hand gripping tightly in one of Louis’ arms, Louis would think they were going at it _too harshly_. Later Louis would find out that _harsh_ was exactly what Harry liked.

“What d’you want?” Louis said in his ear, licking on his earlobe and swallowing a moan himself when Harry gripped his ass, bucking up his hips and sliding their cocks together. “What-ughh Harry, what-”

“Fuck me”, Harry whispered and opened his legs under Louis, “just--- please, just.”

And Louis wanted to. So bad. He wanted Harry on his hands and knees, he wanted to fuck him from behind and really pound into him, except for the fact that…

“I don’t--- shit.”

“What?” Harry opened his eyes and _wow_. Green glassy eyes stared at him. They were so beautiful and expectant and _you’re a fucking twat, Louis Tomlinson_.

“I don’t have any lube--- or condom, I”, he said and kissed Harry’s chest, “fuck.”

He made an executive decision that if Harry wanted something up his ass that night, he’d get it. And they were both painfully hard in need of some relief. He didn’t give Harry time to get frustrated, moving his hand down his front, completely neglecting his cock and moving around to grip his ass; he squeezed it lightly and Harry whined on the bed, messing the sheets.

“God you’re…” Louis started. He was struggling to find the right word to define what Harry was looking like. “Mesmerizing”, he finally got it right. “Don’t worry, Harry”, Louis lowered his voice, kissing his hip and then breathing hotly over his dick, “I’ll make sure your ass is well treated tonight…” Harry moaned at that. “I’ll make you come apart, darling”, Louis warned him, running his fingers up and down his thighs, squeezing a bit too much on his inner thighs and then massaging them again, using that teasing tone guys used to go wild for.

Harry seemed to be down with whatever idea Louis had in mind and a lot eager too, waiting for his mouth and fingers.

Louis went up again, stroking Harry’s cock dragging a half-stifled moan out of the boy, kissing him quiet making his hand around Harry’s dick the only sound for a while. And Harry let Louis take him. He let him have it all and that was the thing that turned Louis on the most: being able to have control of that unknown yet amazing body that was writhing underneath him.

“Would you like that, Harry?” Louis asked pulling back from the kiss, feeling Harry’s nails on his back and trying not to moan to loudly whenever Harry dug it a bit too forcefully. “Would you like my mouth there, on your pretty little ass?” Harry fucking wailed, so loud, throwing his head back and bucking his hips up. Louis had to control himself not to come right there, his dick so neglected it was going purple. “Are you imagining my tongue in your crack and then pressing into you?” He continued on his ear, “maybe a finger or two, if you’re up for it”, his voice was sending shivers down the boy’s spine, he was sure, cause he was reciprocating it by moaning shamelessly on his ear, running his hands up and down Louis’ body, scratching every part of him he had access to.

Harry grabbed Louis by the hair and made the model kiss him once more, rapidly, once again, with urgency. Louis pulled back to stare at him and the curly haired guy was just… _Gone_. His pupils were dilated and as he looked into his emerald eyes he couldn’t help but wonder what it’d be like to see him in the sun, when it’d make them even greener. _Concentrate, Louis_ , he reminded himself and moved closer again, to whisper in his ear, “answer me, Harry”, he commanded.

“Just fucking eat me out, Louis”, Harry whimpered feeling Louis’ hands on his legs again and the model nodded wordlessly.

“Turn around for me then, princess.” He had no idea where the terms of endearment were coming from, but the boy seemed to like it and he was _so_ responsive every time Louis used one that he couldn’t believe. “C’mon.”

And Harry did just that. He rolled over on the bed and spread his legs, his inner thighs touching the mattress and his belly supported by a pillow, head rested on the sheets, eyes barely opened.

“God, Harry”, Louis breathed out in awe. He was _so_ beautiful. Louis had never felt skin so soft in his entire life and he had slept with his fair share of models and hot guys.

But Harry was there, spread out for him, with no shame, with so much want that Louis was losing it---- how submissive was this boy?! He wanted to find out. Would he ever have another opportunity? Oh, the things he wanted to do to Harry, _with_ Harry.

Louis lowered himself pressing his chest against Harry’s back and started kissing wetly on his neck, tugging on his hair strongly with one hand. He couldn’t tell if Harry was more lost because of his kisses or the pull on his hair. Maybe it was the combination of both.

He traced his way down with the tip of his tongue on Harry’s spine, feeling the boy shiver. Louis dared to look at Harry’s face when he gripped his ass cheeks and massaged them, and he fucking moaned when he watched Harry biting his own lip after he spread them, cause _he couldn’t be this beautiful and real and there._

Louis’ tongue traced from his thigh to his ass, following the curve of it with his hands still spreading his cheeks, moving his mouth to the inside of them, so he could finally, finally breathe hot air on his hole, “shit---Louis-fuck”, Harry moaned.

“But I’ve barely started, princess.”

“Lou---” he didn’t let Harry finished, pressing a close mouthed kiss to his hole, leaving whatever Harry was about to say stuck in his throat.

“That’s better, love”, Louis said and licked over it again, tortuously slow, going up and down a few times, massaging his ass.

He took his time making Harry wet with spit and saliva and when Harry finally seemed to lose it completely, trying to hump the pillow and breathing with difficulty, Louis took pity on him and sliding one hand up, he grabbed his hair pulling on it with contained strength while the other one kept one cheek to one side, so he could insert his tongue on Harry’s hole at last.

The noises Harry was making should be illegal and as Louis pressed in with more intent they just got louder and louder, giving him all the permission he needed to fuck Harry with his own tongue while pulling on his hair without actually seeing what he was doing.

Louis wasn’t one to have his face buried in someone’s ass, especially if it were someone he didn’t even know. But Harry was writhing and panting and whining and his lips were parted, both of his hands in closed fists on the sheets and he couldn’t stop _moving_ , rolling his hips trying to get more friction on his cock each time Louis pressed his tongue further. It was just too much.

“You’re already so wet, Harry”, Louis whispered into him, pulling back a little bit in need of some air, “would you like one finger, baby?”

“Ungh” Harry responded biting on his arm.

“What?”

“Uhgfh—uhn”, Louis took that as a yes, but before doing anything else, he grabbed Harry’s hips and pulled him up so his cock wasn’t touching anything anymore, and Harry moved a hand to wrap around himself the second Louis went back to licking him, but the model was quick to slap his hand and do it himself. “Lou-Louis”, Harry cried out.

“C’mon, princess”, Louis whispered biting the inside of his asscheeks and synchronizing his licks with his hand on Harry’s dick, quick enough that his arm was cramping already, but he would _not_ stop.

In the end, it didn’t take much more time. Louis gave Harry’s cocks a few tight strokes and turned him on his back again, so he was facing Louis. His cheeks were flushed and his legs were spread and Louis felt like _he_ was going to come without even being touched, so he just wrapped his free hand around himself and moaned louder than he thought he would while Harry came on his own stomach, crying out Louis’ name.

“Dammit”, Louis hissed speeding up his hand coaching Harry through his orgasm.

“Come on me”, Harry whispered and smiled and how could he look so bloody innocent saying things like that?

Louis choked on his own saliva and spurted on Harry’s crotch and lower stomach, falling by his side the second he finished, feeling Harry’s hand on his hair and a light close mouthed kiss on his lips.

They were panting for a long time side by side, chests rising up and down rapidly and then Louis finally found the strength to go into the ensuite to find a cloth to clean themselves.

“What time’s it?” Harry asked with a sleepy voice once Louis was done and he stretched to the floor so he could find his phone in his trousers’ pocket.

“Two twenty”, Louis answered, eyes closing already.

“Shit”, the boy said loudly by his side and sat on the bed, “I gotta go, there’s not even buses anymore and the guys are probably gone by now--- fuck fuck fuck”, he complained while trying to find his clothes. Louis’ eyes were opened again and—

“Why don’t you stay?” Harry looked down at him and snorted. “What? No one will mind.” Every room was probably occupied by now. Simon knew his models. And his staff.

“You’re not my type, Louis”, the boy rolled his eyes sitting on the edge of the bed to put on his boots.

“Says the man you just had sex with”, Louis pointed feeling smart, but Harry was one step ahead of him, with the answer on the tip of his tongue.

“You see, if you _were_ my type, I wouldn’t have”, Harry winked, cheeky as hell. “I would’ve gotten to know you first.”

“Bullshit”, he accused the boy not letting it show how intrigued he was. “How can you know I’m not your type if you don’t know me?”

“How about I list five things about you to prove I’m right and if any of them are false I’ll lay down again.”

“Ok. Go.” Louis supported himself on his elbows to look at him.

“One, you’re… Nice, probably grew up in a house full of women. Two, damaged goods, but I’m not sure why. Three, slippery, but you’re a model, must come with the job. Four, untrustworthy. Five, you turned down Armani cause you think it’ll make you look bad, not even considering what an actual honor it’d be.”

Louis was going to open his mouth to refute the last one because he _had said he’d think_ about the Armani campaign, but Harry wasn’t wrong about the reason and he knew it, so he didn’t give Louis an opportunity to speak up.

“In the long run, not my type.” Harry finished. “Great sex, though.”

And with that, curly tall hot amazing boy left the room, leaving Louis naked and with his mouth agape. What the fuck _was_ Harry? He didn’t get his phone number, he didn’t know where he lived, he didn’t even know his damn last name.

 

So the first time Louis meets Harry, he’s a little bit in love.

The second time Louis meets Harry, he hates him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Kids In The Dark, All Time Low](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SaIegdJxTsE)
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> This song inspired me to write this chapter, somehow. (I guess that's what Harry and Louis are in this fic: kids in the dark. Hell, that's what I am - in life.)

 

**December 2015**

        STYLES, Harry Edward

        BAKER.

       

        Or at least that’s what it would’ve been little over a year ago. Now he’s looking over Tokyo from his five star hotel trying to figure out how the hell his life changed so fucking much.

        You see, Harry used to have a pretty normal, regular life. And he liked it. It was amazing. He worked for a catering company that served the London high society during the nights and went to uni in the mornings. He was studying English literature and he loved it. He also shared a flat with one of his childhood best mates and whenever they had free time, they’d head together to a pub nearby and would spend money they didn’t have getting wasted and hooking up with people they’ll never see again. It was a great life for a nineteen year old guy who lived by himself.

        And then he met Nick Grimshaw, who, at the time, was nothing more than the face who hired his company to work at Modest Management’s 25th anniversary party. Of course Harry had heard of him before, being the fashion geek he was, but never, not in a million years, he would’ve guessed the guy would take an interest in him.

        He still remembers being approached right after he left the bar, how Nick’s card made his way into Harry’s hand and how a week later he found himself sitting in a glass room with a lot of papers and clean cut people staring at him. He still remembers signing those papers over the month, thinking that he had nothing to lose, never considering he could lose the most important thing he had: himself.

       

        “Hey, H, you ready?” Somebody calls him from behind. He got lost in his thoughts and his hangover and the pretty lights Japan shows at night.

        “I think, yeah”, he answers, never looking back, waiting for his smile to reach his eyes so he doesn’t have to explain anything. “What time are we leaving?”

        “Now, love”, the girl answers.

        “Okay, I’ll be down in a minute”, he turns and meets Olivia’s eyes. She looks ridiculously tired and he can relate.

The two of them have been in the craziest of schedules since last month dealing with the final arrangements of his first Fashion Week in 2016. Whoever tells you that time flies, you better believe them.

“When you get to London, you have a meeting with Niall Horan at 2pm and at three we’ll need to go over Vivienne’s atelier.”

“It’s not a meeting, he’s my friend. It’s a visit”, he makes it clear. And she rolls her eyes at him. “Is it Vivienne Westwood though?” Harry asks widening his eyes and Olivia says that _yes, Harry_. Out of the many designers he’s met this past year, he has a soft spot for the woman. She’s in her seventies and still makes bold choices with strong colors, different from the pastels he’s been obligated to use on his latest shoots and much more his style.

        They walk side by side to the elevator and then to the car. Somebody must’ve carried his baggage because the only thing in his hand is his cellphone and a copy of Pride and Prejudice he’s been meaning to finish for two months now.

        With the help of an antidepressant Olivia got him he doesn’t know why, Harry manages to sleep all the way from Tokyo to London and when he arrives, he almost feels rested, which is a great thing nowadays.

        If Harry were used to this, he’d call Olivia his assistant, ‘cause that’s her job description, but she’s more of a mother, the only decent person he’s met since he started this whole modeling thing. Nick isn’t as half bad either, but they rarely see each other now that Simon based him in Milan. He guesses they’ll see each other in a few days, though, if he attends the company New Year’s Eve party.

        “Pick you up in forty-five minutes”, she says, once again dragging him out of his thoughts, and he exits the car in front of Niall’s flat. His old home.

        The lift still isn’t working and he walks up three flights of stairs recognizing each crack in the walls, searching for the door keys in his skinny jeans but not finding them. Right now he curses himself for having forgotten them somewhere.

        Harry knocks three times until a blond figure opens the door, sleepy face, hungover eyes and wearing nothing but briefs.

        “Well, you look like shit.”

        “Great to see you too, Niall”, he responds with a tired smile and hugs his Irish friend.

        They met at the age of ten. Niall recently moved from Ireland and Harry was lonely, as he always was since his mother died, living alone with his father in Manchester, with no friends at that point but his cat and the imaginary ones. Niall had said “Hi, I’m Nialler and I’m from Ireland, if you’re nice to me I’ll take you to visit my country next holidays”, and the next day they were attached to each other’s hips.

        When they turned eighteen, it was pretty clear neither of them wanted to stay in their city. Niall because he was ready to explore and Harry because living with his father only got harder after he came out, so it was an easy decision when they applied to the same university and decided to live together.

        Harry hasn’t seen Niall in five months, when he flew him to Copenhagen just so they’d spend the weekend together. Harry had to work for twelve hours straight on that Saturday, but they got to have a drink at night and Niall wasn’t even pissed at him, so it was nice.

        “You intend to let go of me any time soon or…?” Niall asks and Harry only tightens his arms around him.

        “I’ve missed you”, he says, “nobody cuddles me in hotel rooms.”

        But he lets go anyway, because he’s also getting out of breath.

        “So, you remember the address”, Niall says and closes the door behind Harry, who makes his way to their tiny living room and plants himself on the couch, and his back hurts immediately. He loves it. “How was Japan?” His friend asks not giving him an opportunity for excuses. Mostly because Harry hasn’t got any.

        “Great fun, good nightclubs, you’d love it”, Harry smiles genuinely, “I can take you there some day… When I have a break, that is.” He sighs. “How’ve you been doing? How’s uni? How are the guys? And Babs?”

        “Been good, just out of a job--- but I’ve been getting some gigs as a DJ? Pays all right, though, and mom’s been helping me”, he shrugs, “uni’s still the same and so are the guys… They miss you. Babs’ on the verge of breaking up with me, I reckon, but it’s all right.”

        “Wh-what? Why?”

        “I don’t know, just a feeling.”

        “Sorry, Ni”, but Niall dismisses it. His good vibes are infectious and Harry’s thankful for it. He doesn’t even remember how his last relationship ended, but he’s pretty sure he wasn’t that okay with it.

        “Mike’s throwing a New Year’s Eve party, you should come.”

        “I- the company’s throwing one too”, Harry starts apologetic, “I gotta go according to Olivia, ‘cause I’m, you know, new.”

        “Sure.”

        “You could come? I’d certainly feel better.” He’s been inviting Niall to parties in forever now. He never goes.

        “Already told Mike I was going to his”, he replies and Harry does his best not to let his smile falter, but Niall doesn’t actually give him the chance to get sad, he just… “Tell ya what, if Babs cancels with me for the party I’ll join ya, yeah?”

        “Yeah.” And he never rooted so much for a friend to get dumped by their girlfriend.

        They talk for twenty more minutes before Harry has to go again, promising to return later so they’ll finish catching up and maybe have a beer. Harry hasn’t had one in a long time because of his diet, always opting for spirits that would be out of his system during the next workout session.

        The car’s downstairs and Horan only sends him off with a pet on the back and a “see you later, loser”. He is happy… And not just for this, Harry genuinely is a happy person… Usually.

A while ago he met Cara Delevigne, and yeah, she’s _loaded_ with money and an extensive career, but she gave him the friendliest advice ever: _do not spend your money on things you can get for free_. Little did he know, but a lot of things he gets for free – even drugs he doesn’t have to pay for. Not that he does them. Not often anyway.

        He now has more money than he can count. It’s not that he _receives_ that much, it’s just that he pays for pretty much nothing. His designer clothes are for free and so are his meals, his trips and his 5 star hotels – either payed by Modest or the line or magazine that hired him. His phone bill isn’t that expensive, ‘cause skype, snapchat and whatsapp are the greatest inventions of all times. Harry doesn’t pay rent, ‘cause he doesn’t have a home anymore and the only money he spares monthly is the one he sends his father – even if he doesn’t want to or speak to Harry at all.

       

        He gets to Vivienne atelier ten minutes late and with a cold tea without any sugar in hands. He hates it, but he’s hungry, so he drinks it anyway.

        Vivienne has the perfect suit for him, according to her and her two assistants, who are ogling Harry like he’s their newest project. That’s how everyone looks at him anyway.

        “D’you like it?” The girl asks when he looks in the mirror.

        It’s a dark red suit with a white shirt under it. After wearing so many things just because, he is glad he’s finally comfortable in something.

        “Love it”, he smiles genuinely because he knows he looks good. And he _likes_ to look good. More than that, he really, really wants to look good. Because there is a chance – a small one of that, but still a chance – that Louis will be there, even if he’s managed to avoid Harry every single time they were supposed to be in the same room for the past year.

        It’s not that Harry’s been counting the days or anything, but it kinda is.

-

        Niall goes with him; reluctantly and with a broken heart, but he goes, because he’s Harry’s best friend. And Niall is the life of the party, so Harry just knows he’ll blend in within minutes at the party, even though he’s preoccupied he won’t “fit in”.

        “A year ago I said the same thing”, Harry says rolling his eyes when they enter the hotel.

        Simon is a difficult person to read and Harry never has any idea of what his end game is or will be, but if there’s one thing he’s learned about him: the man knows how to throw a party. This one is hosted at the Mondrian London Hotel and even though Harry’s been here a few times now as a guest – ‘cause he’s _high profiled_ –, he still knows it’s expensive as hell, he still remembers thinking he’d never have money to stay at a place like that and that was okay, because, well, why would he want a luxurious life anyway? He just wanted to be happy. Joke was, is on him.

        “Fuck, Harry”, Niall smiles as soon as they set foot outside the lift. He was already impressed when they entered the lobby, but as soon as they get to where the party is being hosted, a closed area that had glass walls facing the River Thames, he loses it and Harry can see the sparkle in his eyes. He’s a kid on Christmas’ Eve. Well, New Year’s.

        “Free food, free expensive drinks… The dream”, Harry smiles and throws one arm over his shoulder, walking around with him showing him people and smiling at a few familiar faces.

        “Styles, here”, somebody raises a hand and yeah, that’s Erika Bearman right there waving her hand.

        “Hello”, he says with his biggest grin, kissing her cheek and admiring her dress. “You look amazing.”

        “So do you, dare I ask who you’re wearing?”

        “Try it.”

        “Dame Vivienne?” She asks with her _I know I’m right face_.

        “As accurate as always”, Harry says charmingly and turns to his friend, “Nialler, this is Erika, Oscar de la Renta’s treasure and my dear friend in the fashion world.”

        “Hiya, I’m Niall”, he shakes her hand with a smile on his face. “You a model then too?” Harry laughs, cause _of course_ Niall has no idea of who she is. It’s refreshing and right now, with him by his side, Harry misses him even more.

        “Oh, no, dear”, she laughs politely, “just a PR girl.”

        “Do not diminish yourself. She’s a genius, Ni. _Genius_ ”, Harry repeats and she smiles bigger. She’s probably one of the most genuine people Harry has met. He’s glad she’s decided to attend the party when she could easily be _anywhere_ else, from her own job to Vogue NY.

        “Suppose she is”, Niall shrugs.

        “You his boyfriend then?” She asks and the both of them laugh loudly, knowing for sure it’s echoing around the saloon.

        “Straight as they come”, Niall points.

        “There’s no gender or sexuality in fashion, dear”, Erika says.

        “’M not in fashion, dear”, he blinks back and she is endeared.

        They make small talk for a long time. Eventually Simon comes over to say hi and introduces Harry – who sometimes still feels a bit shy to walk around introducing himself to important names – to Sarah Andelman, who’s the creative director of Colette. Apparently the lady is the queen of collaboration, persuading both Hermès and Burberry to create special collections for the store.

        Niall seems genuinely bored by the talk and at by the end of it, when Harry promises her he’ll stop by the store in Paris looking for Burberry scarves, he says he needs to get properly drunk in order to ender 2016 very happy, so he doesn’t even remember who Barbara is.

        “Ni, I need to go talk to Nick for one second, you okay here?” Harry asks when they find a corner with puffs and dimmed lights. There’s a bar nearby and only three people around, talking in a low voice like they’re in on a very nice secret.

        “Can handle myself, Hazza—just be here before midnight, yeah?”

        “Why, want me to give you a midnight kiss?”

        “Fuck off you tosser”, he laughs and the girls around eye him like he’s just thrown rocks at a cross. As if everybody’s so polite in this world.

        “Kindly”, Harry smiles and walks around the room, trying to get to Nick quickly, which proves to be impossible, since a lot of model fellows stop to say “hi, how are you?”. None of them is Louis so he doesn’t pay much attention.

Is he even coming? _I think he is_.

And it’s not that Harry’s pining over him, it’s just that he feels like he needs to apologize for being a bit of a dick first time they met. Because now that Harry lives in his world, he understands his previous stuck up figure and the way he _considers_ everything before saying yes; he understands his uncontrollable drinking and he understands his need for sex with strangers. So, he’s not pining, he’d just like to say “hey, people are more than a list of five first impressions”.

Nick takes his attention for almost half an hour, but they have a lot to catch up on. And by a lot he means all of the models that enter Nick’s flat on Saturday nights and do the walk of shame on Sunday mornings.

“How come you never hit on me?” Harry asks, flirty as always. “I feel offended.”

“I don’t share men with Louis Tomlinson”, Nicholas snorts into his drink.

“I’m not his.”

“You were that night weren’t you?” He raises a brow showing it is a rhetorical question. No need for Harry to answer. “Once is enough.”

“Fair enough”, Harry shrugs, “not like I wanted to hook up with you or anything, was just curious”, he provokes him and Nick barks out one of his _I’m getting drunk and therefore will be very loud in five minutes_ laughter.

“Please, Styles, you’d be _lucky_ to hook up with me”, he says, “maybe I’ll be your midnight kiss.”

“Maybe”, Harry smiles sideways and remembers he needs to get back to Niall, who must be either 1) alone in a corner getting drunker than he should or 2) making people laugh.

It is the second option.

And as Harry approaches, he says “these ones aren’t so bad, Hazza.”

“I see that you’ve met Louis, then”, Harry smiles politely at him and the Greek God by his side he recognizes being Zayn Malik; they’ve met once when Harry was in a yoga class in California.

“Oh”, Niall says and looks from Louis to Harry. “That Louis?”

Harry’s sure he’s red. Louis just laughs.

“Been talking about me much, Styles?” Louis asks, voice already trained to be sarcastic and Harry’s about to reply he hadn’t given Louis his last name when they met, but, well, it is _everywhere_ now.

“Don’t flatter yourself”, Harry rolls his eyes and smiles. “Hi, Louis.”

The guy only smiles and rolls his eyes.

“Hi, Harry”, Zayn speaks up. “I believe we’ve met…?”

“Yeah, in LA, how are you?” Harry smiles and tries not to look at Louis, although he realizes the shock in his face, as if he’s a bit stunned Zayn hadn’t mentioned to him he’d met Harry.

“Good, Irishman here’s good company.”

“He is”, Harry smiles.

“No, we are not a couple, _yes_ , there is gender and sexuality _out_ of fashion”, Niall says defensively and everybody laughs.

“He’s met Erika”, Louis states.

“Yeah”, Harry and Niall reply at the same time.

“First time I met her she told me closets are for clothes”, Louis tells Niall, never looking at Harry. He shouldn’t be bothered, except he is.

“Well, as if you’ve ever even known what it’s like being in a closet”, Zayn mocks and instantly Harry realizes that they’re really, really good friends. Are they good friends who kiss? Harry isn’t interested. Is not.

“I’ll have you know that I was pretty shy at the beginning of my career, Malik”, he says.

“Yeah, okay, but have you forgotten how we met?” He asks and Niall encourages him to continue. “Louis crashed my CD release party, four years ago, and hooked up with my date.”

“Oi, I didn’t know he was your date.”

“I didn’t know you were gay”, is what Niall says.

“Closets are for more than clothes in the music industry”, Zayn raises his drink as if he’s cheering and drinks it in one gulp. “Plus, I’m not gay, I’m… Free”, he says.

“There are no labels for arrogant R&B singers, apparently”, Louis does the same, also drinking everything at once. Harry didn’t want to laugh this loud, but he did, and it was worth _something_ , because Louis looks inquisitively at him. “What, Harold? You don’t like labels either?”

        “Pretty gay, last time I checked.” He answers easily.

        “Yeah, me too”, Louis snorts and Harry isn’t sure if he’s talking about himself or Harry.

       

        Despite that small interaction, Louis doesn’t talk to him for the better part of it, only acknowledges some of his comments every now and then. A lot of people pass by to say hi. Louis, of course, knows all of them. Harry gets to know them, even though they all seem to know his name, which is a bit overwhelming. Every time it happens, Louis scoffs and takes a gulp, joking with Niall and Zayn, who blanks out more than anything.

        The thing is, Harry isn’t a person who believes in New Year’s resolutions. He doesn’t see the necessity in making a list of things to solve once the clock turns into midnight on the thirty-first of December if he’s got the possibility to handle them at the time, so he’s quite bothered by the not-so-apparent situation between him and the older model.

        It is fifteen to midnight when Harry follows him to the hallway and asks if they can talk, but Louis seems busy on the phone. He’s talking fast and in a hushed tone and Harry should not be trying to listen, but _I’m glad they’re okay, thanks for buying them the presents – I’ll send in more money after London fashion week... Happy New Year--- bye_.

Oh.

        Harry is curious, of course he is, but he also feels guilty, so he decides to make his presence noticed by clearing his throat. Louis turns around in a second.

        “Oh, you”, Louis says unimpressed and Harry nearly misses the flick of fear in his eyes, like he’s scared the curly one’s heard something.

        “Can we talk?” Harry asks. “In private?”

        “And why would I wanna talk to you?” Louis asks crossing his arms and supporting his body against the wall. Nobody at the party seems to be paying attention to them, who are between the saloon where it is happening and the smaller room where people were leaving their clothes and purses.

        “Cause I want to apologize”, Harry says truthfully and Louis puts his phone in the pocket of his perfect Givenchy suit for his perfect Tomlinson body. Harry doesn’t understand why he doesn’t do catwalks even though he leads tons of campaigns.

        “For…?”

        “When we met”, Harry shrugs. “I was kind of a dick.”

        “You think?” He snorts again like he doesn’t actually care for whatever Harry has to say and it makes the green eyed guy a little bit impatient.

        “I didn’t know you and I assumed things and, well, this isn’t easy.”

        “Apologizing? Oh, I’ve heard it’s quite difficult.”

        “No—that too, but. Being in this business. It isn’t easy”, Harry says and Louis smiles, but it’s far from understanding, it’s more like he’s happy Harry’s struggling. What’s happening here? “It changes us, doesn’t it?” He asks. “You probably aren’t anything I said you were, and I. I’m sorry for that”, he finishes.

        “Sure”, Louis shrugs it off. “You done?” He asks looking at his watch.

        “I guess I am.”

        “Good”, and then he kisses him. He kisses him at the same time people erupt screaming _HAPPY NEW YEAR!_ a few feet from them.

He kisses him when he should be hugging his best friend and he kisses him when he was about to take in a deep breath. He kisses him senseless and forcefully and two seconds or two years pass before he disconnects their mouths.

“Happy New Year, Harold.” Louis says and walks away.

-

        Louis goes back to the party with a swollen mouth and a satisfied grin on his face. He finds Zayn talking to Eleanor and hugs him from behind, yelling HAPPY NEW YEAR in his ear.

        “You asshole”, Zayn says alarmed, “fuck Louis”.

        “The sweetest words beginning our year, I see”, he says and smiles, hugging Zayn again and then Eleanor.

        “Where were you?” She asks suspiciously.

        “Uhn—don’t ask?” Louis scratches the back of his neck messing his hair up a bit and avoids his best friend’s gaze, taking a glass of champagne from Eleanor and finishing it.

        “Polite”, she smiles. “And your lip’s bleeding, love.”

        Louis raises a hand to his bottom lip and feels the ache. It’s almost nothing, but it’s there, and he knows he must have a red spot. Zayn looks at him like he just knows what happened and Louis rolls his eyes, excusing himself by saying he’ll smoke a cigarette on the balcony.

        Fucking Harry with his fucking legs and his fucking curls and that fucking amazing suit fitting his fucking body. Louis does realize he’s just thought a lot of _fucking_ but fuck if he knows what’s happening with him right now.

        You see, Louis doesn’t like Harry. Not even a little bit. He would’ve been fine with never seeing him again last year. What he is _not_ fine with is the fact that in a little over a year Harry’s become the biggest thing in the fashion industry without Louis even realizing.

        He remembers the first time Simon mentioned the new guy Nick had brought in. Louis has always liked new people in the firm. Partly because he’d be a mentor and partly because he’s always loved knowing people’s stories, how the wound up there, what they used to do before getting a contract. He never told his own story, but everybody knows his life hadn’t been easy and he was very appreciative of everything he had.

        Harry though. Louis hates how everything happened so easily to him. He hates how his life went from great to amazing, hates how he’s done in one year what took Louis at least three and a half. He hates that Harry will be modeling for Yves Saint Laurent come Fashion Week and hates that Modest has been bathing him in all kinds of amazing jobs.

        And Louis does not have a reason to envy him. He hasn’t lost anything. He’s still at the top of the chain and he doesn’t see Harry as competition. Hell, he doesn’t see anybody as competition, because that’s how secure he is in his established career. He’s just… Bitten.

Plus, he hates Harry by principle. Yeah, of course, he does. The guy had sex with him and moaned his name for the universe to hear just so he’d say ‘you’re not my type’ afterwards. He made Louis come faster and stronger than he had in a long time just to give him a list of a few things he thought over in the split of a minute and walked away feeling superior. And yeah, he apologized, but. But what?

Louis kissed him. God, he’s stupid, isn’t he? But he needed the guy to shut up, it was _three seconds_ to midnight on his watch and he just needed things to be good if even for a second. It isn’t like it’s gonna happen again.

Zayn finds him when he’s going for his third cigarette.

“So much for being healthier this year”, Zayn scoffs and grabs one himself.

“As if you didn’t know me.”

“So you kissed him at midnight hun? After what… A year?”

“And a few months, yeah.”

“Romantic.”

“Shut up”, Louis says when he barely finishes the word. “You never told me you’d met him.”

“It was at the beginning of his career… You couldn’t even stand to hear his name.” Louis looks at him as if he’s saying _still can’t_ , because that’s partly true. “Why’s that, Louis? He didn’t hurt your feelings; you’ve had more one night stands than I can count.”

“Have my own reasons”, he repeats the answer he’s been giving Zayn for a long time and his friend knows better than to press the subject.

A while later, at about one am, Brooklyn calls Louis asking if he’s in London and if he’d like to go over for the first party of the year at the Beckham’s mansion and who is he to say no? He takes Zayn with him and they go into the morning dancing and singing and being extremely drunk and not once Louis thinks about his and Harry’s mouths together, nor does he think about leaving the party without saying goodbye, but seeing Harry’s disappointed eyes.

Louis’ New Year’s resolution is to not be bothered by Harry Styles anymore, because that’s what you do with people you don’t like: you forget them. Right?

Well.

       

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope I didn't disappoint you so far?!
> 
> :*


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks a LOT for your kudos and comments so far.  
> I go an entire week smiling because of them, I swear.
> 
> Here's one more. I hope you enjoy it.  
> All the love.

**London Fashion Week, January 2016**

 

            Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea for Harry to model for more than one brand on his first round of Fashion Weeks. You see, according to Nick, it’s an awesome idea – “that way you put yourself out there more than ever, and maybe by the end of the year one of them asks for you exclusively”. But the thing is: Harry is panicking.

            For him, everything is a first. Since being told to move around and try on different shoes to having his hair messed with and smiling to people who clearly know who he is and what to do with him, even when he doesn’t know it himself. The big venue in Soho now seems like the smallest of spaces cause with each minute that passes, Harry feels like _he_ is going to pass out.

            _Breathe in, breathe out_ , Harry hears his mom saying in the back of his mind and tries to remember what it was like to have her comb his hair with her fingers. He can’t do it now because it’ll mess everything up. Damn.

            “Hey, Harry, how you doing?” David asks sitting on a chair by his side. Harry’s waiting for someone to come and do his make up while his friend---- colleague’s just starting his hair.

            “’M good, how are you?” He smiles politely.

            “Okay, excited for the after party”, he smiles back. David is _gorgeous_. He’s also in his third FW so there’s no way he understands what Harry’s going through right now. Probably because he doesn’t have anxiety either, but oh well.

            Those models are all very nice and they’ve been including Harry in everything they’ve been doing for the past few months, when they met rehearsing for the show. There’s no one from Modest there, not for his brand anyway, so all the contact he’s had with these people came from the few hours they spent together going over how they’d walk and where they’d walk to.

            According to Olivia, they all envy him, because he’s the newest, hottest thing in the market. Harry’s never objectified a single soul… It’s bizarre that this is exactly what happens to him now. Also according to Olivia, who just sent him a text, he’s got nothing to worry, cause he’ll shine brighter than anything and make people proud. She doesn’t mean anything by it and finishes with an X, sending him a kiss, but it makes Harry sigh deeply and sink down on the chair, completely forgetting to reply David.

            Who has he got to make proud? It’s not like his best pals from college are here and he couldn’t get Niall in, no matter how much he tried to find him a seat. “It’s fine, H, just sneak me in to an after party and we’ll celebrate”. Harry hasn’t even tried to reach Des, because it’d be for nothing, he’d only scoff, wish him the best of luck but _I really don’t want anything to do with this queer world_ , thinking that it’d make the fact that he’s a homophobic any better.

            “Hiya, love!” A small person appears behind him, smiling brightly with an orange lipstick that- wow. It’s flashy. “My name’s Lou, ‘m gonna handle your make up, is that okay?”

            He turns around, never liking to meet people through mirrors, to look at her and introduce himself properly. Oh, she’s pregnant.

            “Hi, I’m Harry Styles, nice to meet you”, he smiles.

            “Of course you are”, she continues cheerfully, “so, let’s make this perfect face of yours even better, shall we?”

            “’S not perfect”, he murmurs under his breath but she doesn’t hear it, thank God, and then asks him to rest his head _as carefully as possible, please_ against the chair so she can get started on the foundation.

            Lou talks amicably about how excited she is to be working with him and asks if she can take a picture of him for her Instagram later.

            “I’d love to have done your hair, but I was busy with someone else’s… It would’ve been a dream.”

            “To do my hair?” He frowns and tries not to laugh.

            “There are _articles_ dedicated to your hair, mr Styles.”

            “It’s Harry”, he corrects and smiles, but since it’s the third--- fourth time Lou calls him that, he suspects it’s just to mess with his head. “And that is just weird, isn’t there-like, more important things for people to write articles about?” She raises her eyebrows and suddenly he… “Oh, I’m sorry- I didn’t mean to, it’s just, like, poverty, hunger, you know… Some countries don’t have water and--- and I didn’t mean to, like, diminish your work, I think it’s awesome, it’s just-like. I’m sorry.”

            And then Lou bursts out laughing.

            “It’s fine, Harry”, she says, “you’re just… Exactly how Olivia said you would be.”

            “Oh, you know her?”

            “Yeah, we went to the same uni.” And then she keeps talking about it, just so he won’t move again until she finishes his make-up.

            Once they’re done, Harry asks for her phone number cause she’s just so nice to chat with and she gives it to him gladly. _After Fashion Week you can do my hair and Instagram it_ , he jokes, but apparently she takes it very, very seriously, because her eyes shine and she smiles brighter, moving on to David, who’s looking at him knowingly… Or at least fake-knowingly.

            Because apparently, everyone _knows_ him. Because Harry is a flirt, therefore, he only gets people’s phone numbers to fuck them and leave them, and laugh about it later.

            He isn’t a saint. He’s almost twenty-one, he’s hot, he’s in contact with hot people literally 24/7, and yeah, he’s bound to have some fun. But he isn’t nearly as bad as his co-workers think he is, and it bothers him more than it should.

 

            With his hair and make up done, someone asks him to vacate the chair so someone else can sit – he isn’t paying attention to names – and he just gets up, being careful so his robe isn’t caught up on the armrest, which’s been happening to him for forever now.

            By now Harry doesn’t know how many shoots he’s done, so he’s used to backstages and really rich important people walking around him like their lives matter more just because they’re in Fashion – with a capitol F, of course –, but something about Fashion Week is just so different.

            There are all kinds of people backstage. Harry can see the hairdressers and make-up artists working confidently, probably having done that a gazillion times. He sees camera men pulling camera wires around and photographers trying to capture a natural shot thirteen times. He sees models taking pills and rejecting water and he thinks, for the first time, that he is one of them and his stomach complains.

            (Harry doesn’t starve himself, he’s far from it. He’s just a naturally healthy person… A naturally healthy person who hasn’t eaten anything in almost a day. He’s drank two glasses of juice today, though, and it’s still six pm. Considering that he woke up at eleven, he is… Okay.)

            “We’re here with Harry Styles who’s modeling for Alexander McQueen tonight and…” What? Harry has no idea of who the woman is, but there’s a bright white light hurting his eyes and a microphone being shoved to his face.

            Dark haired woman stares at him and is probably waiting for an answer.

            “Sorry, hm, what?”

            “We wanna know what you think of this line you’re about to model and what we can expect for the next season?”

            “Oh-uhn, I’ve always been a major fan of the brand and it’s-like, an incredible opportunity to, like, show it”, he says. _Eloquent as never_. “And I’m-uhn, very grateful that I can be in this position and, erm, they’re always great-like, so you can expect, hm, great things.”

            She thanks him and says something else and then the light’s gone. Ok.

            He’s been hearing for a while now – especially from Nick, the only person who put up with his freak outs the past two days – that FW seems like it lasts forever, with everything that happens and the whole anticipation that is made for it, but once is gone, you can barely believe it. Harry’s yet to--

            “Eloquent as ever, Harold”, he hears a high voice behind him, interrupting his thoughts.

            The first few times Louis called him that, when they met, it had sounded like an endearment. Now it’s just… Ironic. And Harry doesn’t like it.

            “Louis”, he speaks more to himself than for the man in front of him. “What are you doing here?”

            “Well- I _am_ a model, Harry Styles, I’m sure you know that”, he smiles. He looks impeccable, of fucking course. And Harry’s in a robe.

            “But you don’t- you’re not modeling today.”

            Louis laughs. “Just came to wish good luck to a mate”, he says, “oh, there he is. Bye.” He walks towards a dark haired guy named Luke that Harry acknowledges to be _fit_. A nice guy too, if their deep conversation over train rides a few weeks ago is anything to go by. Right now Harry doesn’t like him very much, but maybe because he is Louis’ friend.

            Later he’ll find out it’s actually the opposite. He doesn’t like the guy because Louis is friends with him. And Louis doesn’t like Harry. And Harry doesn’t like that Louis doesn’t like Harry.

            For now, though, he settles for following the voice that’s calling him to get ready cause the fashion show’s scheduled to start in twenty minutes and he needs to put on his clothes. Harry’s the fifth model to go in and he doesn’t know if it’s better, because he’ll have time to breathe as the show starts, or worse, because he’ll have at least a minute to freak out once it starts.

 

            The clothes are awesome. Harry feels it on his skin how amazing what he is wearing is. He sees in the mirror how good he looks and he hears it from the two women that just dressed him all kinds of praises. Still. He wants to puke.

            Lou had been a nice distraction. And then the interview. And then Louis. Now though, now it’s like the whole tent’s about to fall on his head and the walls are closing in and he just—he can’t do that. He can _bake_ , why isn’t he baking? What the hell is he doing here? Why did he think he belonged here?

            He looks around and everyone’s composed. Of course the other models are nervous and so is Sarah Burton, the designer. She’s actually sweating a bit, but, still, he doesn’t think anybody is as bad as he is feeling. He doesn’t think anybody could.

            “Where can I find a restroom?” He asks a security guard by his side.

            “We’re up in five, Styles.” David calls him but he ignores him, looking pleadingly at the guy, who takes pity on him and show’s him the way to the improvised toilet backstage.

            And Harry locks himself in it. If he disappears no one will know, right?

            It’s barely a minute of respiration exercises until there’s a knock on the door. And then another. And then five consecutive knocks and.

            “What?” He asks.

            “Unlock this damn door, Harry”, Louis says and— _Louis_. Harry unlocks the door. “Can I come in?”

            “It’s pretty small in here.” Louis doesn’t answer. “Come in.”

 

            And Louis could be doing a thousand things right now. He could be 1) making out with Luke before he went in, because God knows they’ve done it before, 2) finding his not so good but acceptable seat in the main saloon, 3) snapchatting the backstage for his thousands of followers, 4) getting drunk before the after party, but. No. He’s in a tiny improvised restroom with Harry Styles of all people, a week after kissing him.

            “What on earth are you doing hiding here?” He asks in a low voice, because somehow it feels wrong to say it any louder.

            “Well- hiding.”

            “But why?”

            “I’m scared”, Harry says. “The show’s starting by now anyway, they won’t miss me”, he continues, but Louis sees it’s an attempt to easy himself into saying _please don’t make me go out there_.

            Louis laughs lightly and hates Harry a little bit less right now.

            “These shows never start on time, really”, he tells him, “always at least an hour late, so, you have time. Me on the other hand…”

            “You’re representing Marc by Marc Jacobs this season, yeah? Exclusively?” Harry asks with hopeful eyes, thinking that just because he’s bought himself time Louis won’t drag him out of his small, suffocating space. He is wrong, but Louis indulges him, realizing that he is also indulging himself. He doesn’t know why.

            “Yeah, and he’s changing the tradition, I guess… Creating a new one or whatever… Starting almost every show on time or only, like, twenty minutes late. So yeah, got no time to freak out this season.”

            “You don’t freak out anymore, do you?”

            “Not really, no”, he shrugs.

            “Why are you helping me?” Harry then frowns asking. “You don’t like me.”

            _No shit, Sherlock_ , Louis thinks and laughs – even so, it’s a breathy laugh. This moment is so out of everything. It’s out of time and out of place and Louis doesn’t quite understand how he wound up there. He understands he saw Harry rushing towards this cubicle with a pale face and barely holding himself up, and he understands the empathy, because, well, he’s human. But… He doesn’t understand _why_ he empathized with _Harry_.

            (He also doesn’t understand how they went from a one night stand in 2014 to kissing on a New Year’s Eve party the next year, so he does what he always does with the things he doesn’t understand: he doesn’t think about it.)

            “I was you, once”, he shrugs. It’s true. “Noah- Noah Mills, I’m sure you’ve heard of him, he was there, for my first Fashion Week; it was in Paris. He helped me. And now I’m helping you. Take it as me doing right by the universe, coming full circle or some shit like that.”

            “Okay”, Harry breathes.

            “You can do this, yeah?” Louis asks him leaving no room for answer, actually, placing a hand carefully on his nape ( _suffering_ because he _can’t_ touch Harry’s hair) and applying some pressure there.

            “Yeah?”

            “Of course”, he says, “look at those legs; they were made for the catwalk.”

            “Well, at least you didn’t say I was made to be famous because of my name”, Harry laughs.

            “You’ve heard that too many times by now, haven’t you?” Harry nods. “I’m not much for bad jokes, so you’re safe with me.”

            Harry thinks for a while before he speaks again, and then…

            “Knock knock”, he says.

            And, ok. He wants to joke. Now? Louis rolls his eyes and mentalizes that it’s everything for fashion. He’s calming Harry down so Harry can get out of his restroom and get in the line with the other models, so Alexander McQueen’s 2016 Fashion Show can start “on time”.

            “Who’s there?”

            “A cow goes.” His eyes are shining. Why do his eyes have to shine so bright?

            “A cow goes who?”

            “No. A cow goes moo”, Harry says and. And Louis laughs.

            But he doesn’t smile. He doesn’t smirk. He doesn’t—he _laughs_ , okay? Like a full on high pitched Louis Tomlinson laugh.

            In the future he’ll look back and realize how stupid he was for not noticing that _that_ was the minute he started falling in love. Tonight… Tonight he stops laughing and places a hand on Harry’s shoulder, says _c’mon, you’re ready, Harold_. And Harry thanks him, politely, game face on – the face he doesn’t like. They get out of that confined space and Louis wishes him luck and walks away before he does anything stupid.

           

             

- 

 

 

            **Milan Fashion Week, January 2016**

A week later, he is back to hating Harry. But, actually, the _gods_ must hate _Louis_. No, they really do. Because Harry is also modeling for Gucci. And even though Louis doesn’t go to the show, because he has no reason to, they end up at the same after party, cause that’s where Alexa dragged him to.

            “D’you reckon I could get laid tonight, Louis?” She asks with a smirk.

            “I reckon you could get laid any night, Alexa”, he responds and moves towards the bar, getting two glasses of wine for them.

            “Starting slow tonight, are we?” The tall woman asks him, surprised that he didn’t order three shots of vodka or something equally strong.

            “Still early”, he shrugs it off. “D’you ever miss it?” Louis then asks her, looking around and seeing male and female models parading in their designer clothes, getting drunker by the minute. He wonders if any of them are taking any drugs or if they’ll wait a bit longer, he wonders how crazy they’ll go.

            “What?”

            “Modeling. Walking on the catwalk…”

            “Sometimes”, Alexa confesses. “Why? Scared your time’s running out?”

            “I’m twenty-three, old lady, please fuck off”, he says. “Nah, was just curious. Plus, I only stop when Simon says so.”

            “I swear I’ll never understand this deal you guys have.”

            Louis ponders if it’d be okay to tell her. They’ve been friends for many years now and she’s trustworthy. She’s good to him, she keeps him grounded. He ponders if it’d be a good idea to let her in his life completely. And he decides against it, because nobody wants to know. Why would it matter, anyway?

            “It’s better if you don’t”, he smiles and finishes the wine. “Now, _yeah_ , hit me with your best vodka, please”, he bats his eyelashes to the cute bartender who’s eyeing him with a _I’d totally let you fuck me_ expression.

            Louis would like to. But first, he drinks, and then he says ‘see you’ to his friend and goes to the dance floor to mingle and have fun. He’s good at it.

            He could pretend and say he isn’t nervous for his own show, but he’d be lying, because he’s just found out they want him to _walk_. He’s the face of the damn line and, well, they want him to go on the catwalk showing off the final piece and then smile and wave with the designer at the end of the show. So, he’s kinda modeling now instead of just showing up and taking nice pictures, endorsing the brand.

And… He can do it. He knows he can. Louis doesn’t have confidence problems. The problems he has are with other people. The problems he has are with _page 6_ and maybe even Vogue the next day saying how inappropriate it is for him to be a catwalk model at such huge event. The problems he has have everything to do with the outsiders, but nothing to do with him.

            Louis is assured, though, many times by Eleanor, that Vogue’s completely on board with it. They even released a note saying that they might actually see Tomlinson on a catwalk leading a campaign for a change, _how exciting is it?_

            It is exciting. It is fucking awesome. And he is dancing the nerves off in Milan.

 

-

 

            Harry could not be happier if he tried.

(Not that he’s trying much.)

The only thing that he’s doing right now is celebrating. Cause he did it! He modeled for Alexander McQueen _and_ Gucci and he didn’t fall face off on the catwalk, he didn’t vomit, he didn’t say anything stupid (or at least harming) on interviews, he didn’t need to take antidepressants during these past few weeks and he didn’t… He _doesn’t_ have anybody to celebrate it with. So yeah… Maybe he _could_ be happier if he tried.

 

            Niall was there, in London, when he needed to celebrate, a week ago. They went to an after party and it was so ridiculously boring that his Irish friend dragged him to a pub they used to go all the time, and they got shitfaced throwing darts at the wall, missing every single time. Then Harry met a cute guy and dragged him back to his hotel, saying _bye, Ni, thank you, see you tomorrow_ and that was it—it was so okay.

            The next day, Niall entered Harry’s hotel room making the guy leave a bit embarrassed, and Harry laughed throughout the entire afternoon, played FIFA and watched him eat the things Harry still couldn’t, because he still had a show the next week.

            In Milan, though… Harry doesn’t know people in Milan. He tried the nice hairdresser, but she’s in London too, and she’ll only be working in Paris. Erika apologized for not being there, but there was no way she could leave her headquarters. Olivia, tired as fuck, sat this one out. And Harry should have done the same thing, but. But he wanted to celebrate. He _wants_ to celebrate.

            “One more, please”, he smiles and a girl passes him another shot of what he thinks is tequila, cause she has half of a lemon in her mouth, like she’s waiting for him to take it with his own. When she pours salt on her fingers and makes Harry lick them, he is sure of it. 

            He doesn’t know this girl, but suddenly he’s kissing her and it isn’t even bad. ‘S not like kissing a guy, but. Well.

            They kiss for a while, but she’s doing nothing for him. Course not. She doesn’t have a dick, now does she?! So he says it was _lovely_ to meet her, but he has some friends to find. At least he wishes while he walks away.

            And that’s when he sees him, in all his glory, having a chat with who seems to be Kate Moss and Alessandro Michele, Gucci’s creative director.

Why is it that Louis knows _all_ the right people? Fuck. Yet, it’s not on _that_ that Harry concentrates, no. It’s on the way his trousers are tight and his shirt falls on his shoulders that Harry focuses. It’s on his quiff and on his sharp jawline. It’s on the way that he’s clutching that glass of--- something that Harry pays attention.

            “D’you wanna save him or should I?” A woman speaks by his side and it takes his drunken mind a few seconds to catch up and understand he is meant to answer.

            “Sorry…?” And oh. He knows her. “Hi, Alexa.”

            “Hi, Harry. It is nice to see you again”, she smiles.

            “You too. You look amazing”, he says genuinely. He’s always liked her.

            “So did you… I watched your show, you were… I mean, you _are_ … Fantastic”, she says after taking a while to find the right words.

            “Thank you.” It’s the most genuine smile he’s presented all day.

            “So, Lou. You’ll go there or should I create an emergency?”

            “Why?” He frowns.

            “Louis hates Kate”, she tells him. “And something tells me he’s not happy talking to Alessandro either.” And _why wouldn’t he_? “He has a hard time with… _People_. In the industry.”

            “I thought he had many friends.”

            “He does”, she laughs, “but he dislikes a lot of people as well.”

            “And he dislikes Kate Moss? Why?” She shrugs. It’s not enough an answer, but maybe she doesn’t know either. Well, if _Harry_ is anything to go by, Louis doesn’t need a reason to dislike people after all. “Are you guys friends?”

            “Good friends, yes.”

            “So you should go there”, he says, “he doesn’t like me either.”

            Alexa barks out a loud laugh and then looks at him.

            “Give him time, kiddo.” And walks away, going in their direction.

 

            Harry sees Louis at the party again. Or Louis sees Harry, he doesn’t know. But their eyes meet. And Louis has his hands on a female model’s waist and Harry’s between to blokes. They’re both on the dancefloor. They’re both completely drunk. But they still communicate, somehow, and end up by the door, at which point Harry just tugs his hands and hails a cab. They do not speak until they get into Harry’s hotel room.

            “Fuck, what are we doing?” Louis asks breathlessly when he has Harry pinned against the hard wood door of _Principe Di Savoia_ hotel.

            Harry stares at him with a blank expression, no answer at the tip of his tongue this time. He’s just… Drunk and lonely and hard and… And it’s silent. He knows Louis is waiting for something when he takes a step back, hands still on the lapel of Harry’s blazer but face a few inches apart. Harry doesn’t have an answer.

            He pulls Louis’ body against his once again and traces his back until his hands stop at the curve of his bum, tracing his lower back lightly with the tip of his fingers, just feeling Louis through the fabric even though he wants more.

            “D’you really, really care about an answer?” Harry asks murmuring in Louis’ ear, taking his earlobe between his teeth and nipping on it making Louis hiss and stiffen a bit, tightening one of his hands on Harry’s hip. “Cause I think this is the perfect opportunity for us both to just shut up and fuck”, he continues, Louis breathing heavily on his neck, his lips touching Harry’s skin, “but hey, that’s just me”, Harry voices and is about to smirk when Louis stops him with another kiss. And another. And another. Thin and plush lips meet and it’s… Perfect.

 

            Harry’s mouth is bruised and swollen and his shirt’s out of his trousers already, wrinkled between their bodies and Louis taking his blazer off without any care, like the only important thing right now is for Harry to get naked. For the first time in a long time, they’re on the same page.

            By the time Harry’s half naked and Louis trousers are open, they’re both in need of some air and—and Harry doesn’t think twice before separating their bodies and walking towards the bed, pulling Louis with him, who manages to leave his clothes scattered on the floor, naked in all his glory when he climbs over Harry’s body on that 5 star hotel bed.

            Louis smiles amusedly when he sees Harry’s face, and Harry thinks that it’s dangerous being so pliant, it’s dangerous showing Louis how much he wants this, because, well, Harry’s a whole new person now. Somehow, though, like in a perfect _dèjá vu_ , he feels like the nineteen year old who wanted to be fucked by blue-eyed Tomlinson, and, for the time being, he decides it’s okay giving in to his desire.

            Their mouths meet again, way more filthily than before – if that’s possible – and their tongues slide together rapidly, sending all kinds of signals to Harry’s dick that’s feeling completely neglected inside of his pants still. Louis grinds down, both hands locked in Harry’s curls and Harry growls in response, exhaling a harsh breath in Louis ear.

            It’s not long before Louis has a thigh pressing onto Harry’s balls and his mouth on his collarbones, tracing his swallow tattoos and marking him up alternating between bites and licks and it’s _hot_ and Harry’s writhing on the sheets, needing _moremoremore_ and thinking nothing but _LouisLouisLouis_.

             One of his hands is digging on Louis’ shoulder while the other squeezes his bum pressing him against his own body, and Harry shivers when he feels Louis’ unclothed dick against his skin. The older boy moans on Harry’s torso, moving to his nipples and Harry stops him before he attaches his mouth there, worried he’ll come too soon.

            Louis looks at him and seems to understand what is happening, so he moves down his body to finally remove Harry’s pants, moving back a little when Harry’s cock springs free, otherwise it’d hit his face. They both laugh and it’s… Nice.

            “Had forgotten how big you are”, Louis says, almost in awe, wrapping a hand around him and stroking tightly up and down in a steady rhythm.

            “ _Louis_ ”, Harry asks---warns, he doesn’t know.

            “Somebody’s needy, aren’t they?” He teases and smirks, moving down and kissing Harry’s inner thigh making him let out the moan he’s been swallowing for so long now, arching his back and giving up completely with both arms falling weakly by his sides.

            His legs are spread out on the sheets and his hair’s already a mess, but Louis is still there, stroking him and kissing and biting and _God Harry needs his mouth again_ , he remembers it felt so so so good, how has he gone so long without it? Fuck, what is wrong with him?        

            “Louis”, he says again, as he feels the young man’s hand leaving his dick and roaming up his torso, finding his nipple with no problem, pinching and rolling it between his fingers, making Harry gasp and arch his back once again, feet now flat on the mattress.

            “You’re so eager for it, princess”, Louis whispers against his skin, climbing Harry’s body again and kissing from his jaw to his mouth and he said _princess_ , oh.

            It’s no surprise for Harry to be a bit submissive, but he’s never been an endearment kinda guy; at least he doesn’t think so. He’s always been fine with people calling him by his own name and sometimes _God_ or _Jesus_ , because, well, it happens – who hasn’t been there? But with Louis... It kinda fits?

            “I—”, he starts breathlessly getting a hold of Louis’ cock, making him hiss and drop his forehead to Harry’s shoulders, “I need you—inside me”, he manages to let out while he squeezes the base of Louis’ dick.

            “F-fuck”, Louis says and bites on Harry’s shoulder, “g-get the lube and condoms, baby, c’mon”, he says and rolls off of Harry, who kisses him quickly and climbs out of bed in a second going towards the table, where he forgot his necessaire when he left the hotel earlier today.

            Finding the lube is no problem at all, because it’s a big bottle – Harry’s an optimistic. But where the hell are his condoms?

            _It’s here somewhere_ , he thinks moving his hands as fast as he can.

 In one second he finds it and intends to turn around, and in the next Louis is behind him, dick real hard pressed against his ass and mouth attached to his neck.

            “If you don’t mind”, Louis starts, hands gripping on Harry’s hip like he _knows_ it’s gonna leave bruises, speaking into his skin marking this words there, “I’m gonna fuck you right here”, he says, tonguing on Harry’s nape and going to the back of his ear, in which point Harry lets his head fall back, “cause I’d love to see you bent for me.”

            “Uhn-Lou-eh”, Harry moans shamelessly when the other model bites his neck and slides his dick between his thighs, hissing because of the tightness of Harry’s legs closed around him.

            “Reckon I could come like this, you know?” He says and Harry _wants wants wants_ to give it to him, so bad. Right now he’d give Louis the world if it meant they’d continue in this position forever. “But if it’s--- if it’s that good like this”, he says, moving slowly and _so good_ , “I cannot wait to find out”, one more open mouthed kiss on Harry’s left shoulder blade, “what it’ll be like to be inside of you”.

            “Please”, is the only thing he can say and after that Louis loses a bit of control too.

            He reaches around Harry to get the already uncapped bottle of lube and smears the inside content on his fingers a little clumsily, guiding them to the crack of Harry’s ass, who places his hands on the table looking for some support and spreads his feet on the floor, separating his legs so Louis can have full access and _Jesus Christ isn’t it the hottest thing when Louis circles his hole for the first time in more than a year_.

            “Still as responsive and beautiful as I remember, love”, he says and kisses lightly down Harry’s spine, using one hand to keep Harry’s asscheeks parted, “that’s my favorite part, you know?” Louis murmurs and…

            “What?” Harry breathes out, barely keeping his posture straight, ass pert on the air.

            “My favorite part”, Louis repeats, inserting a finger when Harry’s the most relaxed, letting his own dick tap on Harry’s lower back every now and then, “watching you come apart when we’re still halfway there”, he says and laughs a little.

And Louis has one of those voices, you know? Low and high pitched at the same time. It’s smooth, but with the right amount of toughness, and it’s teasing as fuck, especially because he _knows_ how to use it. Harry doesn’t think he’s ever been with someone who could drive him crazy by only speaking, but for the second time tonight he has the impression that he could come by just listening to Louis’ voice close to him.

“ _More, Lou_ ”, he pleads when one finger isn’t doing much for him, and Louis is quick to give it to him, using his free hand to roam over Harry’s torso, tracing all kinds of patterns and going down down down, touching anything but Harry’s cock.

 

Harry gets impatient on the third finger, when Louis purposely misses his prostate, changing angles each time he exits and enters him, and he decides to do something about it, grinding his ass back on the man’s hand, circling his hips trying to find it for himself. Louis seems to understand his game, cause he buries a hand on Harry’s curls and turns his head for another kiss.

Their tongues meet first and Harry feels beautifully dirty, moaning into Louis mouth feeling his fingers inside of him and the model’s cock trapped between their bodies, with his own free and in need of some attention. He doesn’t care to move though, not until Louis takes off his fingers and finds the condom, having trouble to open the package with a slippery hand.

“Lemme”, Harry says and turns around, opening it and touching Louis’ dick again, stroking him a few times before putting on the condom, asking for the lube that is quickly handed to him, “you’re so thick”, Harry whispers and kisses his neck, making Louis turn his head to the other side so he can have full access.

Harry has one hand on Louis’ cock and the other is rubbing up and down his sides. He _loves_ his curves and he cannot pretend there’s a favorite spot. He likes it all, wants to touch it all, wonders if one day he’ll be able to trace his whole body with his tongue, if he’ll ever have the time to leave random marks across his skin and… _What?_ No. That’s definitely not what this is. This is a _fuck_ , this is a drunk occurrence due to unfinished business of a past that he can barely remember.

( _Lie_. He remembers it vividly.)

Louis bucks up his hips into Harry’s fist and it only gives him one more reason to kiss his neck again, sucking and biting and…

“Fuck, don’t leave a mark”, Louis says out of the blue, like he’s just remembered something, “I have to---my fashion show, I-”

Oh. Yeah. Harry detached his lips from the model’s neck to look at it and…

“Oops”, he says, but he’s not feeling bad about it, not really. “Too late”, he smiles and goes back to it, not giving Louis time to fight.

“I suppose it’ll fade”, he says in one hitched breath.

“There’s always concealer”, Harry reminds him and moves to the other side of his neck. Both of Louis’ hands are around the curly haired guy neck and he’s bucking his hips up constantly, like he doesn’t want Harry to stop.

Harry doesn’t mind it either, until he realizes Louis is wearing a damn condom for a reason.

“D’you still intend to fuck me anytime soon?” He asks teasingly and it’s all it takes for Louis to bark out a laugh and turn Harry around, pushing him down, face and torso on the desk and- Harry has a back problem. It isn’t anything really bad, but he knows his ass won’t be the only sore thing in the morning. And if he has any fucks to give, he’d rather spend them on Louis than on his own health issues.

“Are you ready, baby?” Louis asks, moving his hands up and down Harry’s back. They’re hot and firm and kind of rough when he uses one of them to slap Harry’s right asscheek, he’s done for.

“ _Please”_ , he asks again, being the only thing he can manage to say when his dick is pressed between his lower stomach and the marble table, his left cheek squished on that hard surface.

“So polite”, Louis says and Harry can see with his peripheral vision when Louis takes the base of his cock in his own hands, leading them towards Harry’s hole.

And _I’m gonna wreck you_ is all the warning he gets before Louis slams into him once and for all, and no foreplay in the world could have prepared him for this feeling. Somehow, though, it’s Louis who screams _JESUS FUCK, HARRY_ once he’s all the way in, with both hands now on his bum, squeezing his ass cheeks.

“Come on, Louis”, Harry pleads, “move”. And Louis does, twice, carefully, until Harry asks him to _not_ be gentle, “I can take it”, and it’s the last smirk he gives in a while, cause Louis starts to pound into him, not taking him long to find his prostate again and _GOD HOW COME IS THIS SO GOOD? HOW COME HAS THIS NEVER BEEN THIS GOOD WITH ANYONE ELSE?_

Harry cannot think. He cannot think when Louis slams into him mercilessly and he cannot think when he covers his hand on the table with his smaller one, moving the other to pull Harry’s hair. He cannot control his guttural sounds and he cannot remember hearing anything more beautiful than Louis’ moans whenever he’s all the way inside of him.

At some point Harry gathers enough courage to meet Louis’ thrusts, but it’s useless, cause Louis is pinning him down to the table.

“How can you feel so good?” Louis asks in a particularly harsh thrust, one that makes Harry catch his breath; “you’re---- fuck, you’re amazing”, and Harry can detect _wonder_ in Louis’ voice. If he could speak, he’s sure his would sound the same.

 

It’s all great, but his lower back is starting to hurt. And he tries to ignore it, tries to move his hips a little and while it makes Louis moan with pleasure, it gives him the tip that as hot as this position is, it’s also a bit harming and not enough anymore, so he moves out of Harry and tugs on his hair bringing his face closer, kissing him thoroughly before walking them to the bed, throwing Harry like a ragged doll without second thought.

(If Harry were able to process coherent thoughts, he’d maybe ask Louis how he can be so strong, since he’s the smaller one.)

Harry’s falls back on the bed with a satisfied noise and Louis pulls him down, leaving only his upper back on the soft mattress, placing both of Harry’s legs on his shoulders and entering him again with no warning whatsoever.

And that… _That_ works for Harry. He closes both of his hands in tight fists on the sheets and Louis does not stop with his thrusts, dirty talk long forgotten and replaced by loud moans and guttural sounds and skin on skin noise. Harry tries to get a hand on his cock, but Louis manages to move around his leg and slap it, saying something about coming untouched, which hasn’t happened to Harry since he was in sixth form.

“I---I need to”, Harry breathes out, “I need to come, Lo-Louis”, he says, asks, pleads, for the _love of God he needs some release._

And Louis gives it to him, for about a minute more, with fast, harsh thrusts, and then Harry’s coming on his stomach and chest and he suspects some of it hits his cheek, but has no way of checking now. He squeezes his asscheeks and purposely tightens his hole around Louis’ dick, and it takes a few more thrusts for him to give in as well, letting his body release everything that I had been building up inside of him for the past two (?) hours. Harry can’t really tell time.

Louis lets Harry’s legs fall on the floor and fits himself in between them, kissing Harry for a while before rolling to his side, half of his body on the bed and half on the floor as well. For about two minutes, they only breathe rapidly and shortly, and stare at each other with blissful expressions.

Harry raises one hand to Louis hair, running his fingers through his fringe that is practically glued to his forehead due to the sweat, quiff long gone. Louis lets him do it for a while, and then he gets up to throw away the condom and says something about finding a towel in the bathroom to clean themselves.

When he comes back, Harry sees something in his face that he decides to ignore, accepting the cloth with a smile on his face.

Louis puts on his pants and shirt, and fetches himself some water, passing it to Harry afterwards.

 

“You could stay, you know”, Harry risks saying when he watches Louis collecting his clothes, because… Why not?

But Louis only scoffs, pulling up his trousers and buttoning them.

“I’m not your type, remember?” He answers with a cynic smile.

So much for thinking the sex haze would last a bit longer.

“Sweet dreams, Harold.” Louis says before leaving.

 

Is that how it feels being left after sex then?

Harry decides he doesn’t like it.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Question of the week: are we EVER going to get over MITAM?  
> How good is this album? Damn!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiya!  
> This took longer than I expected, and I wish I had a better reason than the fact that I got caught up reading some fanfics as well haha.  
> But here it is, hope you enjoy it xx.

                                                    

 

**Paris Fashion Week, January**

            It’s ten am and Louis doesn’t want to get out of bed and neither does he want Zayn to open the curtains – he’s seen the Eiffel Tower enough times, he’s perfectly fine with his hotel walls –, but his friend does it anyway, which makes Louis groan and put a pillow over his head, face buried in the mattress.

            “Stop being a baby, you fucker, get up”, Zayn calls from across the room and Louis flips him off without actually looking at him.

            “Let’s go out, Lou, get up”, Stan says pulling the covers from him.

            “’S cold”, Louis complains but sits up anyway, cause they’ve already set their minds to wake him up, there’s not much he can do. “I need tea. Get me tea, Z.”

            “Get your own tea”, Zayn throws himself on the bed by his side and opens what Louis thinks might be his twitter, because the next thing he says is “God, they found out where I am.”

            “Who?” He asks.

            “Fans, of course”, he rolls his eyes. “One would think that with Fashion Week going on they’d focus on the models instead of me.”

            “Darling, we both know you’re more famous than any model”, Louis smiles and kisses his cheek, much for Zayn’s dislike.

            “We should go out anyway”, Stan says, “explore, do something fun--- don’t wanna go to a fashion show.”

            “Me neither”, Louis says and gets out of the bed when he realizes Zayn was serious and he has to prepare his own tea. “I mean, I’ll have to go, but later, maybe, still have tomorrow and the day after tomorrow anyway.”

            “Since when you’re _not_ in the mood for a fashion show during fashion week?” Zayn asks him.

            “Probably because lover boy isn’t modeling today”, Stan scoffs and Louis doesn’t bother to say anything, just sends an angry look. “Oh, fuck off will ya? You’re the one who couldn’t shut up about how good it was to fuck the guy. _I_ never asked for it. I’m pretty sure I’m the only one on the football team who knows this much about gay sex.”

            “Well it’s not my fault you play with a bunch of homophobic pricks…” Louis answers, getting back to the bed and sitting on the edge of it.

            “You know it’s not like that, you’ve played with them”, Stan is fast with an answer and- yeah, he’s right.

            “By the way, instead of annoying me, don’t you have a game to play today, Stanley?” He then asks.

            “Nope”, he smiles, “I’m yours for today and tomorrow. Then I gotta get back to practice and physiotherapy”, he wrinkles his nose.

            A month ago he fucked up his knee and got injured pretty badly and only now he’s back on the pitch, practicing with the team. But it’ll take at least three more weeks for him to be able to play half of a game, which’s causing a setback on Man U’s plans. Oh well.

            “So we’ll go out”, Zayn decides. “C’mon, let’s all get ready, conquer Paris and find some private party so Louis can fuck someone else and stop moping around.”

            “I can’t drink, though”, Louis moans, “got NY next week.”

            “You don’t have to get drunk to have fun, chop chop, go shower.” Zayn of _all_ people is saying Louis “doesn’t need to be drunk”, ha, it’s gotta be a joke. And they all laugh. But Louis gets up anyway after finishing his tea and goes into the shower.

 

            Paris is boring, to say the least. And it’s not a thought that would _ever_ cross old Louis’s mind. Now, though… It’s just… Streets. And people – fancy people. And stores. And cafés. And… it’s dull. Unless he’s there on a job, Louis doesn’t have anything to do, at least not that he wants to.

            He remembers the few first times he’s been here though: the excitement, the will to go to every touristic point possible, the desire to get to know the city and its people. He remembers smiling big whenever people would tell him he had a day off and he remembers getting lost for hours because he couldn’t read a map to save his life, and he remembers calling Eleanor giving her a random address and asking her to arrange a car to pick him up.

            Now he lets Zayn drag him into the Nike store even though none of them actually _need_ to shop these things anymore. Zayn’s got a stylist on his speed dial and so does Louis, and Stan is _sponsored_ by the fucking brand, so it’s kinda useless, but his friends convince him it’s nice to be normal every now and then.

            _Normal_. That is not a concept Louis is familiar with. The last time he knew what normal was he was fifteen years old with a house and family, but even then it was a little broken. He smiles, though, he says _I’m more of an ADIDAS guy, boys_ , but waits for them to pick stuff out anyway and unnecessarily buy them, just for the joy of it.

 

            “You just spent a considerable amount of money here”, Louis rolls his eyes as they exit the store with both of Zayn’s body guards by their sides.

            “Well, it’s my money”, Zayn argues.

            “Which you could be spending on charities instead of clothes you don’t need”, he tells him and for the first time in the day, Stan agrees.

            Stan is the only person who knows about Louis’ life – well, most of it –, cause they know each other since they were little kids in South Yorkshire. They grew up together until problems caught up with Louis. When he left, he lost contact with all of their old mates in the football team, including him. Only years later when he was already famous and Stan got his first deal with a major club Louis reached out again.

            By then, his first best friend knew what had happened that made him move, and Louis told him half of what was – _is_ – going on and how he got the modeling gig; they might have cried a bit and hugged it out, but they managed to pick up exactly where they had left off.

           

            Louis isn’t usually a pain in the ass about them spending money. Hell, he spends a lot of it. But as the day goes on and they spend more and more euros on stupid things, his stomach feels a little uneasy, and he asks if they can go back to the hotel, promising he’ll find a good after party for the night.

            “Is Eleanor here?” Stan asks. “In Paris?”

            “Probably, yeah, but she went to the shows, not sure where she is…”

            “Give her a ring, maybe she wants to go out with us.” And Louis is _totally_ going to pretend he doesn’t know Stan wants to bone her.

            He steps out to call his assistant, but before he can even dial her number, Simon’s name comes up on the screen and, well, it’s not like he can decline the boss’s call.

 

            “ _Hello, Louis”,_ he says on a cheerful tone.

            _“_ Si, hey. How you doing? _”_

            _“Great, great, how are you?”_

            “’M good too”, he replies and realizes that right now it isn’t even a lie. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

            _“Oh, right, yeah. Do you know Harry Styles?”_ He asks and there’s a lot of background noise.

            “Hm- does anybody _not_ know Harry Styles?” He laughs.

            _“Not what I’m asking”,_ and Louis can _picture_ his boss rolling his eyes. _“D’you actually know him? Have you ever had a conversation with him? What do you think of him?”_

            Oh wow, okay.

            “I have- yeah and I—”, _to tell or not to tell, that’s the question_. It’s not like Louis has _ever_ lied to him; he’s smarter than to begin doing it now. “I don’t like him.”

            “ _Ok. Why?”_

            “Because- I.” I don’t know? Not good enough. “Because of what he represents, I guess. Why- where’s this coming from?”

            _“I’ve received an offer. Well, you have. You and Harry received an offer.”_ He pauses and Louis hums in acknowledgement, waiting for him to continue. _“Have you ever heard of Arnaldo Anaya-Lucca? He’s a photographer.”_

            “The 2012 Ralf Lauren campaign guy? Likes to capture things in the air? Yeah, I know him.”

He’s one of the 50 greatest Fashion Photographers right now.

            “ _Yeah, him_ ”, Simon confirms. “ _I got a call, he’s recruiting models during Fashion Week for Dior’s summer ads and he wants you guys.”_

            “Where’s the catch?”

            And Simon laughs, like he was already expecting Louis to ask it.

            _“A two week trip to Bali, the two of you and… Five more people, I think. Not sure about the details, but yeah. I can’t answer for Harry, but I thought I’d check with you first.”_

            “I don’t have to like the bloke to work with him, Si, ‘s fine by me”, he shrugs not even thinking about what it’s gonna be like to spend two weeks with Styles on a tropical island.

            Simon thanks him and says they’ll work on contracts come February, cause he knows Louis has a lot to deal with right now. And a lot is an understatement. Even though he’s having _fun_ , in the back of his mind there are things that he just can’t shake off, but he wishes with everything he has that he could.

           

            He gets back into the room having completely forgotten to call Eleanor and texts her on his way to the sofa, where Stan’s already setting up  FIFA so they can play while Zayn’s already dead on the bed. Knowing him, Louis knows that Stan _knows_ Louis has never told him the full story of what happened after the incident – that’s what he calls it –, so every now and then he gets the feeling that his oldest friend’s just waiting for him to crack, but he’s not sure that that will never happen.

            Louis isn’t the kind of person who talks about feelings. He’s not emotionally stunted; he just keeps things to himself, because that’s what’s best. He has this theory that people are not interested in one another; they’re all just curious. Nobody wants to sit by your side and listen to you ramble about the things that trouble you, nobody _cares_ if you’re going through a rough patch or if your life is just a sequence of rough patches. They just want to get the highlights, the rays of sunshine in the darkness and say that they’re your friend.

            And Louis doesn’t think Stan’s like this. He doesn’t think Zayn’s like this either, but… That’s how he’s learned to live.

 

            It’s nine thirty when Zayn wakes up and they decide to go out. Louis doesn’t drink, so he’s completely sober when he spots Harry, _of course_.

            “This can’t be a coincidence”, Louis says more to the universe than to anybody else.

            “It isn’t, I called him”, Zayn lets him know nonchalantly.

            “You—you what?”

            “Technically I called Niall about a party I’m throwing in NY next week and I kinda invited him to be the DJ--- he’s- trying to get in the market, you know?” Louis nods impatiently, “then he told me he was in Paris with Harry… Thought it’d be a good idea.”

            “Wasn’t the plan to get Louis _off_ of Harry’s dick? Fuck someone else so he’ll forget it?” Stan asks furrowing his brows.

            “Maybe if he gets too much of it he’ll get bored?” Zayn replies and Louis is about to comment on how ridiculous this whole conversation has been, but by then Harry, Niall and a blond woman Louis is sure he’s seen somewhere approach them – later he finds out she’s Lou Teasdale, introduced as Harry’s acquaintance .

(Plus, he doesn’t know how one can get _bored_ of Harry’s dick, hence his problem.)

            They all greet politely and Louis shakes Harry’s hand as if he hasn’t had his dick buried in his ass already and excuses himself to go grab a drink, because he’s _human_ and no way he’ll be in his presence completely sober. Mentally, he promises himself to work out first thing next morning so there’s no residue of possible extra calories.

 

            Right now, he can’t decide what is wrong with Harry. Now that he _knows_ a little bit (very little, really, but enough) about him, it’s not only his privileged life and easy rise to the top that bothers Louis. It’s the way he lives, with cheeky smiles and huge dimple, it’s the way he walks moving his lanky body around completely _owning_ it, knowing that every man and woman around want him and it’s a bit… Cocky, isn’t it?

            He also doesn’t like the way he speaks all posh, like he’s better than Louis just because he got an education. And he _drags_ his words, what kind of person does that? It’s like his _Hi_ lasts longer than anybody else’s, and by the time he finishes a sentence Louis has no idea of what he was talking about to being with.

Another thing Louis doesn’t like: his tattoos. Harry has a body scattered with tattoos which is pretty unacceptable for a runaway model like him. Louis could never get the ones he wanted, even if he doesn’t go on the catwalk often. But Harry… He already _had_ tattoos when fucking Nick Grimshaw casted him and nobody bats an eye. Honestly.

            He’s listing the things that make him hate the model when somebody comes behind him, hand on his hip.

            “Long time no see”, the voice says. Louis has no idea who he is, but he just smiles politely. “Thought you’d show up at my show today…”

            “Sorry, love, had a day with friends.” Thank God he is as dodgy as they come.

            “Good, and the night? With friends too or you’re making exceptions?” He smiles, flirting too much. Where has Louis seen him?

            “I’m afraid it’s with friends as well”, he says excusing himself and saying a _see you later_ even though he has no intention whatsoever to see the guy again.

           

            So he dances, because he’s good at it. First he works as a wingman for Stan, then he convinces the DJ that it’ll be nice to let Niall in his booth – after saying that he’s there with Zayn Malik, the singer (since the guy had no idea of who Louis was, which, rude) and then, finally, he got to the dancefloor.

            Zayn comes a while later and then there’s Harry and blond Lou, and instead of acquaintances, they look like good friends already. For the time being, they’re all moving their bodies together and everything is good. Louis isn’t even hating on Harry’s hair, his curls bouncing as he moves his body around.

Louis has a hand on Zayn’s hip and they’re dancing together, but it’s nothing sexual. Harry’s eyes zoom in on it, though, and Louis smiles brightly, not even acknowledging the satisfaction he gets by a possible jealousy, pulling his friend a bit closer, placing his mouth on the shell of Zayn’s ear. His friend turns his head confusedly to look at Louis.

“Can you at least pretend you don’t want to fuck him?” He snorts.

“Well, no”, Louis replies, truthful as always. “I told you he’s good.”

“So go get him?” His friend frowns.

“It’s a game, Malik. Just go with it, will ya?”

And he does, because he’s an amazing friend. He grinds on Louis and Louis does his best not to laugh because even though Zayn is extremely hot, the thought of the two of them getting off together is laughable.

Lou pulls a guy right before one am and vanishes, leaving Harry by himself, but… Not for long. Because he’s _Harry,_ and as soon as he doesn’t have anyone by his side, people come to him _so_ easily. And Louis knows that it isn’t because he’s famous. It’s dark, nobody would recognize him. It’s because he’s hot. Annoying, self-righteous and completely undeserving. But fucking hot.

It doesn’t take more than ten minutes for Harry to start looking uncomfortable with the people around him, though, and if Louis is going to give him one pro against all his cons is this: Harry Styles is extremely polite, so polite he can’t shake people off, no matter how much it is bothering him.

“He doesn’t want them”, Louis voices before he can control himself.

“Take him out of there then and let me find somebody to fuck, thank you very much”, Zayn says disconnecting his hips.

“But then I won’t win”, he wines whines.

“You’re gonna get your dick sucked one way or another, stop complaining, just get’im outta there”, his friend finishes and kisses Louis’ cheek, walking away and leaving him by himself.

And. Louis is hot too, he’s aware of that, so of course there’s a guy right by his side as soon as Zayn leaves, but much like a week ago, his eyes cross with Harry’s above heads and he forgets completely about his little scheme, just tells the guy to walk away and infiltrates himself in the little group that’s around the other model.

 “Took you long enough”, Harry huffs and Louis only rolls his eyes.

“Restroom?”

 

Turns out Zayn was right, he _gets_ his dick sucked. Right now Harry is in a bathroom stall on his knees for him and Machu Pichu be damned: this is the most beautiful view he’s ever seen in his entire life. Fucking Harry was _amazing_ , but having his red mouth wrapped around his length is, for sure, on his top five of things to do or have done to him.

“Lookin’ so good, baby”, Louis says not able to control himself and Harry moans around him, taking Louis as deep as he can and like everything related to the guy, it’s too much and not enough.

He tangles his hand in Harry’s curls and bucks up his hips just to test the waters, making Harry place his hands in the back of his thighs to pull him in deeper and deeper and _oh God he’s so glad he isn’t completely drunk_ , cause he’s sure he’s going to remember this for a long time.

Harry has his eyes closed, completely concentrated on what he’s doing, but Louis has the urge to look into his eyes, so he asks, not so politely, if Harry can open then. When he does, he’s sure time stops even if for a second. And it’s ridiculous, cause this is a blowjob in a dirty place, but really. He takes a breath and slides his hand from Harry’s scalpel to the nape of his neck, applying only so much pressure, allowing him to do his own thing, cause, well _it’s working_ for Louis.

            So he does. He licks and sucks and as he does so, he hollows his cheeks making sure that Louis sees the gates of hell – because there is no way he is going to heaven, not with the thoughts that are crossing his mind. The things he could ( _wants to_ ) do with Harry are obscene.

            Harry scratches his nails on his thighs and takes his mouth of off Louis cock to suck on his inner thigh, playing with his balls and, all right, Louis _moans_ , loudly, and he isn’t even ashamed of it because _how can he be so good?_ He takes one of his hands to his mouth, in a closed fist to keep himself from screaming again and the other one is glued to the side of his body, while Harry laps his tongue around the tip of Louis’ dick.

            He can already feel that feeling-- that need for desperate release accumulating in his gut and he throws his head back, feeling his quiff come undone and his fringe already in his eyes. But then Harry stops. He’s not touching, not doing anything, he just--- stops.

            When Louis looks down, Harry has sank down on his knees and has his hands on his back, looking at Louis expectantly, like he’s the one who’s gotta move now. The buttons of his trousers are undone, but he’s still tucked in his pants, which makes Louis even more eager, seeing the outline of Harry’s hard cock. Jesus, isn’t he going to do anything?

            Louis may or may not have voiced it, because Harry hummed and said “I want you to fuck my mouth” like someone who tells you there’s a probability of rain the next day, “I know you can go rough on me, don’t hold back, Lou.”

            The nickname seems to have escaped Harry’s mouth without him even realizing it, but Louis isn’t complaining, no, far from it. He finally understands that Harry’s hands are clasped behind his back because the boy is waiting to be used, and hadn’t Louis been so out of it, he would have realized it sooner.

            Moving as fast as he can, he tangles both of his hands in Harry’s hair and it’s so long that Louis can actually pull on it like reins if he wants to. For now, he uses it to get Harry’s mouth redirected to his dick, sparing no time, guiding Harry down, down, down until he hits the back of his throat.

            At his mercy, Harry does his best flattening his tongue on the underside of Louis dick, again hollowing his cheeks as Louis fucks in and out, losing control himself of his own body, just shallowly thrusting whispering all kinds of things, until the curly haired guy finally throws his head back and Louis goes deeper than he thought he could, dragging loud moans from the both of them. And _now_ , now is just--- unexplainable. Too. Fucking. Much.

            Harry’s moan goes obviously straight to Louis’ dick and he doesn’t have any time to warn Harry he’s about to come, because suddenly he’s spurting white, thick ropes and pulls out quickly enough that it only hits Harry’s lips and a bit of his chin—he thinks.

            Louis gets on his knee and takes Harry’s dick out of his pants, fisting on it with strong and fast tugs, gathering all the precome from the tip and spreading on Harry’s length so he can slide his hand easily. And he kisses him, surprisingly sweet, feeling rather than listening to Harry’s whines of pleasure, sensing his trembling lips against his own. It doesn’t take much for Harry to come on his fist, but it takes at least ten minutes for the both of them to come down from the high.

 

            “Well, you’ve certainly ruined my Louis Vuitton”, Harry says with a voice lower and deeper than ever, entire face completely destroyed and still with a playful smile on his face, one of the most beautiful smiles he’s ever seen, if not the most beautiful one.

Only after he speaks Louis looks at Harry’s colorful shirt, where most of his come went to.

            “Sorry?” Louis bites his lip, something uncharacteristic for him, but that Harry does a lot.

            “You’re not actually sorry, are you?” Harry smiles again.

            “Not really, no.”

            Green eyed boy then moves forward and kisses him, like they’re not on their knees with cocks out in a bathroom at a super private party in Paris. Maybe the city isn’t so boring anymore. Or maybe it’s Louis’s post orgasmic haze.

 

 

 

  **New York Fashion Week, January**

Harry had never been to New York Fashion Week before. In 2015 he hadn’t been for long in the fashion scenario so he hadn’t even been to Paris’ or Milan’s Fashion Weeks, making his only appearance in London for one brand that was thinking about hiring him back then. Now that he’s a big shot, he gets to experience everything first hand, but truth is he’s only interested in watching one brand: Louis’s.

            When they left the night club in Paris a few days ago, they managed to be civil with each other. They all shared a limo and on the way to their respective hotels, they were able to maintain decent conversation about mundane things for the first time since the first day they met, and in Harry’s drunken mind, that was progress. He wanted to kiss him again when he left the car, but it never happened.

 

            “H, you ready?” Nick asks from the sofa, “car’s here.”

            “Niall?” Harry calls, because his friend’s still in the bathroom. Contrary to what he had previously thought, it wasn’t difficult at all to convince Niall to come with him to New York. Apparently, he and Zayn are great buddies now.

            “Going”, he says coming from the ensuite. “Let’s go, boys”, Niall smiles and pats Harry on the back.

            “Looking good, Irish”, Nick tells him and Niall flashes the man a smile. They didn’t hit it off greatly, but at least they don’t hate each other, so Harry’s happy with it.

           

            Nick’s on the phone with Simon the entire way to the show venue and Harry can only listen to one part of the conversation, of course, but it still makes him a bit nervous, because it’s about Marc by Marc Jacobs and, well, it’s most likely Louis’ related.

            Once they arrive there, Nick shows them to their seats and says he needs to go backstage to sort some things out. Harry knows that if he wants, he can go with him, but there’s no way Niall will be able to go too and Harry isn’t about to leave his best friend alone, especially because the only reason he’s there is because Nick’s new – soon to be ex, like many others – boyfriend couldn’t make it and Harry convinced him to give it to Niall.

            “I hope there’s a killer after party tonight”, he comments excited.

            “It’s New York, there are going to be many, you just choose the one you want to go, really, and we’ll make it”, Harry shrugs.

            “Mate, how do you say it so naturally?” He laughs, “like, two years ago this time you’d be baking muffins to sell the next morning, how could you get used to it so fast?”

            “I don’t know, I think--- I think time passes differently in this kinda life. Not sure if it’s a good thing or not, but. Yeah”, Harry shrugs again. “You know, I’m starting to think you’re only tagging along with me for the parties.”

            “The free booze and the girls, of course”, he laughs louder and a lady on the second row turns around to look at him with an accusatory expression. “Also, because you’re lonely and you need people”.

            Harry just smiles and says _thanks, Ni_ in a mocking tone, but deep down he’s sad, because Niall couldn’t have been more accurate if he tried.

            Nick comes back a few minutes later, when the lights are dimming and sits by Harry’s side, and for sixty seconds he manages to stay quiet, but then…

            “Grimmy, what’s happening?” He whispers to his friend.

            “What?”

            “With Simon calling and you running backstage… Is everything all right?”

            “I’m hoping it will be”, he states and thinks it’s enough, but Harry gives him a _please fucking explain you’re supposed to be my friend_ look. “Marc’s closing.”

            “ _What?”_ Harry scream-whispers.

            “Marc by Marc Jacobs. They wanted to end it last year and blend everything together in only _Marc Jacobs_ , but somehow they waited to do it this year and the designers came up with a new line, so Simon kinda—hm, reached out to them? And told them they should hire Louis as the face of their campaign, promising he’d do so good that the brand wouldn’t struggle anymore.”

            “Ok. And?”

            “And he didn’t tell Louis this part”, he shrugs. “So somebody mentioned it to him a few hours ago how the whole thing’s practically up to him. I mean, if the show’s good and- like, the ads work and the campaign sells, they won’t close it, otherwise… It’s happening.”

            “That’s not fair”, is the first thing that Harry says.

            “I agree with you, of course, it was an unfortunate comment, but-”

            “No, look, none of this is fair. Simon should’ve told him that and—even if things go wrong, it isn’t Louis’s fault? Like—what if the line sucks?” He asks it in the lowest of tones. “He can’t _make_ people buy anything.”

            “Of course he can”, Nick rolls his eyes, “girls started to wear more ADIDAS because of him, the guy half owns a football club just so it receives the right endorsements because he doesn’t want to see it bankrupt. Louis sells whatever he wants to, that’s why he’s a multimillionaire model just like Gisele, for example. That girl photographs with a shampoo and everybody wants it. People are easily influenced.”

            And, yeah, he supposes Nick has a point. The other day somebody called Olivia to arrange for Harry to do a _Gillette_ commercial even though Harry barely has a beard to begin with. He _knows_ what a face can do to a brand, but he also knows that it isn’t fair to blame someone for something they didn’t do, which’s the case.

            Louis wears the clothes that other people manufactured. He photographs for the magazines he is told to and he gives really small interviews every now and then. It’s not like he draw the entire collection, so if it sucks, and if it doesn’t sell well, they can’t say _the model_ wasn’t good enough to inspire or encourage people to buy it.

            Before Harry can argue on this bullshit, lights are down and music starts playing, an underground band that is _so_ underground that not even Harry has heard of.

            As a fellow in the industry, and only that, Harry wishes everything goes well.

 

-

 

            “Harry, hey”, Zayn says as soon as he sees him, people moving around them with cameras and cellphones. Harry’s sure he’s just seen Kanye West passing by. Oh. “Seen you more times this month than my own family—but then again, I don’t see my family much”, he completes wrinkling his nose.

            “Hi, Zayn”, Harry smiles. “Hello”, he says to the girls by his side.

One of them has a short, red hair, and looks so confident Harry almost envies her – maybe _she_ doesn’t have to fake it. He’s sure he’s seen her somewhere. The other one is a bit shorter, with long, dark brown hair. She’s beautifully dressed in Chanel, Harry can admire that.

“These are Halsey and Eleanor”, he says, “she’s a singer, we’re working on something together”, Zayn finishes and she smiles, rolling her eyes. She looks extremely sassy. Harry likes her instantly. “This one’s Eleanor, or saint El, if you may.”

“Lou’s assistant”, she explains.

“Niall Horan, ladies”, Irish blond reaches out and takes their hands to kiss, like he’s so polite. “You partying with us?”

“I am the party, honey”, Halsey says.

“We’re following her lead tonight”, Zayn smirks and they both high-five, “we’re just waiting for Lou.”

Well, it _was_ implied that they should wait too, so that’s what they do.

 They keep talking and at some point he gets genuinely interested in Halsey and what she does with her music, the new influence she’s having on this generation. Of course it’s a fifteen minute conversation, so it doesn’t go deep enough for them to discuss points of views, but it’s nice to see that she, like Zayn, is a real person with real opinions, not only what the media paints him – and probably her – to be.

Harry decides he’ll pay closer attention whenever he hears her name around and promises to download her discography to give it a listen.

“Actually, she’s just released her second CD,‘s why we’re throwing a party--- the one I asked you to DJ”, Zayn tells Niall.

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah”, she smiles, “Zayn’s a great friend and ‘s gonna let me borrow his Hamptons mansion.”

“ _They’re Monaco and Hamptons bound, but we don’t feel like outsiders at all”_ , Eleanor sings and the girl laughs. Harry thinks that might be one of her lyrics.

“Oh, sick”, Niall says genuinely happy. _Harry_ is also extremely happy that Zayn’s doing it for him, because he’s never directly accepted Harry’s help saying that he didn’t want to take advantage of him. “How are we gonna get there, by the way?”

“I’ll text you the address, Harry can have a car drive you lads.”

“Oh, I’m invited?”

Zayn snorts and rolls his eyes.

 

Less than 5 minutes later he spots Louis. He’s talking to Nick and Marc Jacobs himself and _oh_ , Harry doesn’t think he’s ever seen him in person. He’s smiling and so is Grimmy, but Louis looks properly pissed, so different from when he was on the catwalk; there he was just… _Perfect_. Harry doesn’t understand why he doesn’t walk more often and his height shouldn’t be a problem at all. (He isn’t besotted, just… Realistic. He’s sure everybody could see how mesmerizing he was.)

Now Louis seems angry, though, and Harry doesn’t think straight – pun totally unintended, this time – when he walks there, not even excusing himself from the little group of people he was in.

“Hi”, Harry smiles cheerfully when he gets to them. If possible, Louis’ expression stiffens even more and Nick just looks confused.

Marc’s the one to talk to him.

“Oh, if it isn’t Harry Styles…” He shouldn’t be surprised that the designer knows his name, but he gets a bit overwhelmed. “Maybe I should’ve asked you to model for my brand instead.”

“I’m flattered, but I believe you’ve made a wonderful choice”, Harry replies, “Louis is brilliant”, and he doesn’t know why he says it. Just seems right and Nick smirks, making Marc turn to him.

“Well, I wish you good luck, and if we’re done here, my friends are waiting”, Louis says not even looking at Harry. “Marc, always a pleasure”, he shakes his hand firmly and quickly. “Grimshaw, not so much”, and then he walks away, not looking happy at all. And this is wrong.

For the second time, Harry moves before thinking better.

“Louis, hey”, he reaches him and the model turns around before he can get to the guys.

“What?”

“I- I think you should know it was- great, you know? And it’s not on you if Marc ends up closing the brand, like--- it was unfair and- just-”

“How d’you fucking know about it, Harry?” He asks irritated. “You know what? I don’t care, it doesn’t matter, just stay out of my fucking way and stop patronizing me cause I’m a big boy and I do not need a pep talk.”

And. Rude. Why?

“Why are you being a prick? I’m just trying to be nice.” He shrugs his shoulders, genuinely trying to understand.

“You’re meddling, that’s what you’re doing. And _again_ , I do not need a pep talk, I don’t need you to be nice with me, so just-”

“You know what? Fuck you”, Harry says, because he’s kinda hurt qnd pissed too. Maybe Louis’s anger is infectious. “God, I was so right about you”, he barks out a laughter.

“You know shit about me, so stop judging.” Louis dismisses him and starts walking again.

“Oh well, I could say the same, yet here we are.” He walks behind him, reaching their group almost at the same time as he does. Harry thinks it’s okay to call it _their_ group, cause Niall’s there after all.

When they arrive, hating on each other, Niall cheers and says they’ve been waiting for too long and are in desperate need of alcohol. Everyone agrees, including Harry; he could drink a whole bottle by himself, come to think of his past four weeks, but he’s in no mood whatsoever to party with Louis right now, and makes up an excuse to not go after making sure Niall will be okay by himself.

“See you at the hotel, Hazza”, Niall hugs him and Harry walks away, asking for a cab.

 

-

 

Harry’s sitting at the hotel bar with no intention to leave it soon; he’s in the company of a glass of whisky and Lou Teasdale via text message, so it takes him a while to realize there’s a guy sitting by his side talking on the phone trying to apologize to someone _for the hundredth time_ apparently.

He’s about as old as Harry and has bags under his eyes and Harry feels empathetic enough to ask the bartender to serve him a glass of whisky too, but the guy’s so caught up on the phone that doesn’t even notice it. It’s only when he finishes the call and tries to hit his head on the wood surface that he notices a glass.

“Drink it up, mate”, Harry says, “looks like you need it.”

“Thanks, I-” he raises his head, “holy shit you’re Harry Styles.”

“Hm- hi?” He smiles and takes a sip of his own drink. “Nice to meet you…”

“Liam. Liam Payne, I--- I work for GQ Magazine, we like you a lot there.” He says politely and then looks down at the glass, “thank you.”

“Don’t mention it- we all need it, and Fashion Week has been hell, so I say we deserve it”, he laughs.

“Yeah, it can be… Tiring”, Liam guy laughs and drinks everything in one gulp. Okay, his month must’ve been harder than Harry’s.

“You covered it?”

“Yeah. It was supposed to be only London, but my boss thought it was a good idea to send me to New York of all places and get an exclusive and I just- I’m new? Fuck, I’ve literally _just_ left uni, how am I supposed to know all the ins and outs? My intern credentials only do so much, and then there’s still the- I’m sorry”, he says and widens his eyes; “I sometimes stress talk.”

“We all do, I guess”, Harry comforts him, even though he himself doesn’t talk at all when he’s stressed. “It’s okay mate.”

“Thanks”, he shrugs. “For the drink as well.”

Harry finishes his up.

“Think we should have another one.”

On the fourth glass Harry offers him an exclusive.

He first texted Olivia to check if it were okay and she agreed happily, joking about him doing her and the PR people’s job effortlessly better than them, but really, Harry just sees this as an opportunity to help someone out. He does it as much as he can.

“You serious?”

“Yeah”, Harry smiles, “not now, cause I’m knackered. And drunk, I might add. But, yeah.”

“That would be- wow. Yeah. Awesome. Thanks.” So they schedule it to Sunday afternoon, because Olivia reminded Harry that he has a meeting with her and some other people tomorrow and then he has to make an appearance at Alessandra Ambrosio’s new line, just because.

 

Harry goes to bed a lot earlier than he had previously thought, and even though alcohol helped, he’s still a bit upset by the small and unnecessary fight he had with Louis early, but he’s _more_ upset about the fact that he actually cares about it.

Before he considers digging deep and thinking about why he needs Louis’ approval so much, he thinks about going out again and finding someone to fuck his troubled thoughts away. But then he finds the sleeping pills in his bag and decides against it, drinking the both of them and jerking off right before drifting into nothingness. God bless medicine.

 

                                                                                                                                             

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few things:
> 
> 1) You must've realized I'm a tiny bit obsessed with Halsey with what the name of this story being inspired by a song of hers. Just bear with me, please.  
> 2) I don't know how you feel about it, but I think I wanna start playing with a side Ziam plot? Maybe? Hm.  
> 3) Next chapter Harry and Louis are going to have their first real conversation since... Ever. I'm lowkey excited.  
> 4) THANK YOU for your comments and kudos so far. All the love, xx <3
> 
> Just in case you wanna say hi, here's my [twitter](https://twitter.com/ifmelcouldfly) 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Trigger Warning: drug use)

 

                                                 

 

            Harry’s Saturday is hectic. One would think that right after FW he’d have a day off, but, no. Right at breakfast time his phone’s ringing nonstop and it’s Olivia, asking him to come down because they have things to discuss.

            “It’s—” he looks at his phone clock, “eight thirty, can’t we discuss it later?” He asks already knowing that the answer is going to be no _, because the industry never stops, Harry_.

            So against his will, he tells her he’ll be down in a few minutes and takes a shower, looking for something nice and comfortable to wear, since he isn’t expecting to get papped, settling for white jeans, boots and a silk patterned shirt from TopMan.

            He goes into Niall’s room and notices he’s not sleeping alone, and murmurs ‘good on you, mate’ with a smirk, drinking a bottle of water before making his way to the lifts and texting Olivia he’s getting there. She doesn’t reply, but when he gets to the breakfast saloon, she’s sat with Jonas – his other PR guy – and a laptop opened on the table.

            “Morning”, he smiles and they both answer politely. “You got me food, how lovely.”

            “Figured you’d want some proper food post Fashion Week”, she says pointing to the pancakes in front of him. But there are also a lot of fruit and tea and juice, so, yeah, he’s still on a balanced diet.

            “I would honestly kill for pizza and beer. Or burgers, ‘m not picky”, Harry confesses taking a piece of strawberry with his fork.

            “One pizza or burger wouldn’t kill ya, just work it off at the gym”, Jonas offers chewing with his mouth open, making Harry laugh and Olivia role her eyes. He’s in good shape, but his body is built, full of muscles. Harry’s defined, yeah, but nothing like him, it’s not good for the catwalk.

            “So, dear Olivia, what made you take me off of bed at ass o’clock in the morning on a Saturday?” Harry asks ironically.

            “Dior”, she shrugs going for nonchalance.

            “Please elaborate” he leans forward, more interested in what she’s saying.

            “Had a meeting with Simon this week, Arnaldo Anaya-Lucca approached him asking for you and Louis for a Dior campaign.”

            “Who is he?” Harry asks, because he’s never heard the name before.

            “One of the greatest photographers out there nowadays”, Jonas tells him. “Anyway, Dior’s HR contacted us asking for an answer cause apparently Louis already said yes, so we need to discuss your options.”

            “I have options?” He asks surprised.

            “Oh, darling, you most certainly do”, Olivia smiles at him and then turns her laptop his direction.

            There’s a list for stores and brands that contacted them throughout the whole month, since his first appearance for Alexander McQueen in London. It’s only been a few weeks but it actually feels like a lifetime ago; everything just moves so damn fast.

            Apparently, Saint Laurent wants him. Really, really wants him. Exclusively. His favorite brand of all times has actually offered him a one year contract and he can’t react. But both Alexander McQueen and Gucci showed interest to keep working with him. So did Chanel and Barneys, one of the most famous department stores in New York. And now, Dior, that needs an answer until Monday.

            Harry has to take a breath and finish his pancakes to realize that this is his life and this is actually happening so he can begin to process everything that is going on.

            Dior’s summer’s campaign is gonna take place in Bali, where the models will spend two weeks at a, of course, five-star hotel shooting pictures and videos for the brand, varying from pool parties to beach days to golf clubs. The concept is _naturalness_ , according to them.

            Now, you see, Harry is a big Dior fan. And the _perks_ of the campaign. Jesus Christ, it isn’t going to be too hard, is it? If he has to endure moody Louis during the day but get to have a few drinks at night in a paradisiac island, he thinks it’s worth it. Plus, the other models are _all_ amazing, and Olivia explains they’re pulling out the big guns because they wanna boost the company.

            “I think their biggest fear right now is to fade into the _traditional_ line, which’s what’s happened to Armani …” She says. “I mean, they’re never gonna fade _completely_ , because they’re too powerful and many people still go for it, but it’s hard for them nowadays to make a Vogue cover, for example. I don’t even know when the last time that happened was.”

            “Yeah, and this could happen to them. Chanel for one reinvented the entire line last year…” Jones picks up from where she stopped. “They finally understood they couldn’t rely on Chanel number 5’s sales anymore.”

            “It still sells a lot, though”, Harry answers frowning, because _classics_ don’t fade. Ever.

            “It does”, he agrees, “but it’s not what kids your age want these days”.

            “You say that like you’re so much older than me”, Harry laughs and then finishes his juice. Jonas is probably thirty, and Harry’s already shagged him. So, there’s that.

            “Look, the most important thing here is that you can _choose_ , but I’d strongly advise you take up on Dior’s offer.” Olivia uses her business tone right now and Harry knows it’s time to choose. “They have Kendall and Gigi, and Louis. They can always go for Sean O’Pry if you turn it down, his contract with Hugo Boss has just finished…”

            “But what about YSL?” He asks then. Harry isn’t O’Pry’s biggest fan, but maybe because the first time they met was when Harry caught him cheating on his girlfriend. Being the most well paid model in the world doesn’t make him a nice person. Not at all. “I’d really love to wear their stuff… For free”, he laughs, because when he decided he had enough money in his bank account, he walked into a YSL sore in Los Angeles and bought at least fifteen shirts.

            “Why would you work exclusively for them, though, if you have the opportunity to go with so many other strong brands as well? And _that_ because we haven’t even mentioned renewing your contract with Topshop, cause I doubt they’ll let go of you”, Jonas tells him.

            Harry makes a face and Olivia, his angel, cuts Jonas before he can speak again.

            “Look, we need to give an answer to Dior on a short notice… Maybe we can talk YSL into waiting a bit? Or not asking for an exclusive contract?” She asks.

            “Could that work?”

            “If Jonas puts his magic into it, it can”, and he’s about to interrupt when- “oh c’mon, we all know you have influences there”, Olivia tells him. Oh, Harry didn’t know, but that’s good.

 

            He takes up on the offer after all. He was inclined to do so since he’s heard of it, so it’s not a surprise, really, when he tells Olivia he’ll pray YSL agrees to extend the deadline or maybe gives up on exclusivity, but he’ll be going to Bali on the first week of May.

            Once he gets back to his room, it’s past eleven and he plans on watching some bad TV before he needs to go out again, but he’s faced with no one less than Barbara Palvin and he doesn’t really know how to react.

            They’ve never met, he doesn’t think, but of course he knows who she is. And she knows who he is as well, apparently.

            “Hi”, she smiles, “Niall’s in the shower, ‘m just ordering some room service, if you don’t mind.” The girl says and what can Harry say apart from ‘okay’? Yeah.

            He waits for her to finish her order, making sure that the bacon’s _really_ fried and hanging up. He’s pretty sure she isn’t eating it and it’s all for Niall.

            They introduce themselves to each other out of pure politeness and make small talk over the last few days; she tells him about the party, how she’s friends with Louis – _I’m sure you know him, right?_ – and how he introduced her to Niall and they hit it off immediately. _Your friend really is a nice guy_ , she says and Harry has to agree.

            When Niall gets out, he’s already dressed and without a trace of hangover on his face, making a joke about how being Irish makes him stronger than everybody else. Harry wishes he could disagree, but really, it’s been like this since forever.

            Somebody knocks on the door and the minute she’s out of their sight Harry bursts out laughing.

            “What?” Niall asks, but really, Harry can’t stop. “ _What?_ ”

            “It had to be Barbara Palvin, Ni? Really?” Harry laughs harder and Niall’s not understanding a thing if his furrowed brows are anything to go by. “ _Barbara_ , Niall”, Harry then emphasizes the name.

            Niall’s first love at the age of 10 was a Barbara. His last girlfriend from uni: Barbara. And now he’s just hooked up with another one.

            “I guess I have a thing for Barbaras after all, uhn?” Niall says with a smug smile on his face scratching the back of his neck. “Go figure”.

 

-

 

            Harry goes to Alessandra Ambrosio’s new line’s launch that afternoon with clothes that Olivia picked out for him, because he wasn’t in the mood, and then at night the both of them make their way to a diner near the hotel. He and Olivia share a milkshake and it’s good, even though she keeps reminding him of the _Numéro_ cover he’s shooting in Monaco at the end of February. It’s gonna be his first _important_ Magazine cover, and he’s static, but he just wants to forget his commitments for a while.

            It’s then that Liam texts asking if he’s at the hotel, and Harry remembers he had promised him an interview. Oh, fuck.

            “Tell him you’ll do it tomorrow”, Olivia says. “Was hoping we’d go clubbing tonight, c’mon, Styles. We haven’t gone out together since Japan last year, I’m starting to think you don’t consider me a friend”, she pouts and—not fair.

            Truth is, he doesn’t, actually. But he’s learned to be _friendly_ with her anyways, because she’s a good person. Harry sometimes wonders if he’ll ever trust anybody that isn’t Niall or- or his dad, despite everything.

            He reschedules and Liam doesn’t complain at all, says it’s no problem for him to work on a Sunday, he just needs to tell his boss. Harry’s okay with that, until it’s three pm on Sunday and Liam knocks on his hotel room door with a large smile and his iPad in hands, thanking him for the millionth time for doing this, _it’s really important, and we really do like you a lot, so—maybe they’ll offer you a cover if the interview’s really good_ , Liam tells him.

            And then Niall shows up talking on the phone and saying _I’ll ask Hazza, okay, see ya later_.

            “Ask me what, Ni?” Harry asks. “Oh, Niall, Liam, Liam, Niall. He’s my best friend, if you want my life to sound less sad when you write about it.”

            “Stop being a dick, your life’s amazing”, Niall hugs him from behind and ruffles his hair. “Nice to meet ya, mate.”

            Liam smiles politely and shakes his hand. Harry liked the guy immediately because of his personality – he seems reserved, but good fun. And his eyes are kind. Harry hasn’t seen kind eyes in a long time.

            “Ask me what, Ni?” He repeats.

            “Oh, yeah, Zayn’s called to ask me if the car’s ready to take us, he needs me there earlier so we can go over the music and all that.”

            _Shit_.

            “Shit”, Harry voices and—

            “You forgot it, didn’t you?” Niall smiles knowingly.

            “I’m sorry, we can--- we can grab a town car, yeah? We’ll be there in a couple of hours, I’m sure.”

            “Hm-” Liam’s about to say something and, _shit_ , he has an interview to finish.

            “D’you mind tagging along to a party in the Hamptons?” Harry asks Liam without really thinking about the consequences.

 

            Three hours later, when they finally get to the address Zayn had given them, the consequences are: Louis laughs, Zayn’s pissed, Halsey’s already a bit drunk to care.

            “Only you would bring a journo to an exclusive party, Harry, honestly”, Louis rolls his eyes and walks away, asking Niall to follow him so he can show the blond the DJ booth.

            Liam interviewed Harry in the car, and right after they finished it, they actually got along pretty well. Niall liked him too and they all talked about music and uni and Harry told him a lot of stories off the record, from his days as a baker. He didn’t think it’d be an actual problem. And now he’s realizing it.

            “My manager’s upstairs, I’ll have him print an NDA”, is the only thing that Zayn says.

            “I’m sorry”, Harry shrugs and he can see how uncomfortable Liam really is. Later he’ll find out the guy was a bit starstruck as well because _you never told me it was Zayn Malik’s party, fuck_. “Look, he’s a really nice guy, Z”, Harry tells him. “Be pissed at me but don’t be a prick.”

            “Don’t give him anything bad to write about”, Halsey advises and then smiles at Liam.

            “Look, I’m-”, Liam starts, looking directly at Zayn, “I’m a big fan of your music and of course I’ll sign the NDA, but there’s no way I would ever write anything bad about you or--- or about your guests. It’s a private party, it’ll remain private. Harry’s already given me an interview, which will help, like, two hundred percent in the magazine, so, yeah.”

            Zayn stares at him for longer than it is socially acceptable and then nods.

            “Cool, mate”, and walks away.

 

-

 

            Louis is _drunk_. It’s still ten pm but he’s been drinking since he woke up, because Zayn thought it’d be a great idea to warm up for the party. Aiden, Zayn’s manager, was pissing him off since lunchtime – which was almost four pm – so when they finally got enough alcohol in their systems, Louis kissed him just to shut him up. It wasn’t the first time, it probably wouldn’t be the last.

            He’s making out with him in the kitchen when Harry enters it calling his name and-

            “Oh, you’re busy”, Harry frowns.

            “I am”, Louis smiles, “if you could kindly give me some privacy it’d be much appreciated.”

            And then he resumes to kissing Aiden again, because it’s good. It’s not _Harry good_ , but it’s satisfactory, especially with Harry watching. Maybe right now Louis doesn’t realize, but this is one of the five things Harry listed about him the first night they met – it fits in slippery or even untrustworthy, one would say.

            “The kid likes you”, Aiden says when they stop kissing, “you like him too”, and he smirks once he sees Louis’ expression.

            “Not at all. We’ve been having hate sex, but that’s all”, he dismisses and kisses him again, but Aiden stops to laugh.

            “You know what they say about hate, though”, he looks at Louis again and the model frowns, because no, he doesn’t. “It’s the closest thing to love.”

            “Oh, shut up will ya?” Louis laughs and shakes his head, “think I need to get drunker. Bye, Aiden”, he rolls his eyes and goes back to the party, just to find Harry doing body shots on a friend of Halsey’s. The girl seems completely into it and Louis snorts, knowing that Harry is _not_.

            But then it’s eleven thirty and they’re playing spin the bottle and, yeah, Louis has kissed a few people, but stopped when he started feeling dizzy. And the thing is, he doesn’t usually stop. He gets dizzier than dizzy and blacks out, but something tells him he should probably be responsible tonight, since Zayn’s high hitting on the journalist guy and Niall’s nowhere to be seen – having left a sick playlist on – and… Harry has disappeared as well.

            Aiden’s already gone back to his hotel almost an hour ago, saying that unlike some _people_ , he had to be up early on Monday.

 

            It’s like a magnet, really. But Louis ends up where Harry is: on the front porch. Harry’s sitting on the stairs with two other models Louis recognizes and the same girl from earlier and they’re all- _no_. No, no, no, _STUPID HARRY, WHY WOULD YOU_?

            Dammit.

            Louis walks fast and furious in his direction, taking the credit card off of his hand and making him get up. But his eyes are weird and there’s a dopey smile on his face and—

            “Coke, Harry? Are you serious?” Louis says angrier than he should be considering he isn’t Harry’s _father_ or older brother or even friend, for that matter.

            “Oh, Lou, Lou”, Harry says with breathy voice, “just let me have some fun” he says and picks a cigarette out of his pocket.

            “What-”, Louis starts asking, taking it off of his hand as well, “have you been doing? Like, literally?”

            “Relax, Tommo, ‘s just some coke, don’t tell me you’ve never done it.”

            The only reason Louis doesn’t reply is because he- he can’t.

            “Shut it, Malcom”, he says harshly. “You’re coming with me”, he tugs on Harry’s hand and pulls him close.

            “Louis, you are _nothing_ , so I suggest you take your hands off of me right the fuck now”, Harry warns him. And he’s bigger. He’s taller and his body is stronger, but Louis will be damned if he’ll leave Harry with these people, so against his better judgment – that is saying _for fuck’s sake stop with this obsession and let this kid be_ – he pulls Harry once again, moving him easily cause his body is weakened by drugs and guides him up the stairs, hoping to find at least one empty bedroom.

            He succeeds on his third try.

            “Let. Me. Go”, Harry kinda fights him, but he’s already inside the room and Louis’ already locked the door.

            “What have you had?” Louis asks. “Concentrate for me and tell me everything you’ve had tonight, Harry, now.”

            “Who do you thin-”

            “I AM NOT KIDDING CAN YOU FUCKING TELL ME?” He yells for what it feels like the first time in forever.

            Louis is loud, yes, but he doesn’t shout at people. Hates when it’s done to him, so he just avoids doing it.

            “Alcohol, lots of it. Ecstasy too, and coke. Was about to smoke a cigarette when you so rudely stopped me.” He makes a face. “You happy?”

            “I’ll be once you throw up, c’mon”, he moves to grab Harry’s hand again but the guy moves away.

            “I’m not going to puke, I’m fine.”

            “Really?” Louis comes up close and places both hands on Harry’s face. His eyes are dilated and reddened and there’s white powder under his nose that Louis cleans with his fingers. “C’mon, please”, Louis says. “Don’t become a cliché.” He doesn’t know when his voice became so… Small.

            (Deep down he wants to say _don’t become me_ , but then he’ll have to explain things he’s not ready to. And that includes the drugs’ part and why he’s so against it now.)

            With certain difficulty, he gets Harry to the bathroom. He puts him on his knees and inserts his own finger down the model’s throat, making him vomit everything all at once, and tells him to stay there, he’ll be right back.

Louis finds pants and an old shirt in the main suite and goes back to Harry with them, telling him to go into the shower and then brush his teeth with the new toothbrush he found in the cabinet. Louis is already sobering up, of course, so he texts Zayn saying he’s upstairs with Harry and they’re probably not coming back to the party.

            Tomorrow he’ll find a naked journalist in his friend’s bed, and he’ll mock him forever for it, but now he’s knocking his head against the headboard, counting the minutes for Harry to get out of the shower. When he does, his hair’s messier than ever and his eyes are even redder, which would be impossible, unless… Unless he’d been crying in there this entire time.

            “What time is it?” Harry asks, voice hoarse after throwing up so much.

            The last time Louis had something down Harry’s throat and heard him sound like this was a much happier moment, and he finds himself thinking that it’s been too long, when in reality it was less than two weeks ago.

            “Five past midnight”, Louis says after checking his phone and Harry sits on the bed by his side, and even though he shakes his head and smiles, his eyes are unfocused, like he’s thinking about something and is lost in the thought.

            Eventually he speaks and Louis isn’t sure if he’s talking _to_ him, but he pays attention and indulges him anyway, because despite the situation, for the first time since the first night, Harry looks like a person.

            “She used to wake me up at midnight”, he voices.

            “Who?”

            “My mom”, Harry says and his lips show a small, sad smile. “She used to wake me up and sing me happy birthday, usually with a cupcake and a small candle… It was the only time she’d let me eat sugar after dinner”, as he’s speaking, Louis’ heart is tightening in his chest. “Dad would wake up too and we’d sing before bed, and when I woke up, there was breakfast in bed and—” he’s crying now, really low, but Louis can still hear him sniffing and can’t help but scoot closer, putting a reassuring hand on Harry’s thigh. Harry looks up, stares at the ceiling for a while and then… “Happy birthday to me.” He whispers.

            “Harry-”, Louis starts.

            “I was trying to forget, you know?” He looks at Louis. “I was trying to forget it’d be my birthday, that’s why I took the drugs, I—I was just trying to forget, Louis.”

            And then his head falls on Louis’ shoulder, and Louis doesn’t know how he went from being completely pissed off to extremely sad for the boy, so he just hugs him as tight as the position allows him, kisses his hair and promises him everything will be okay, even though it won’t, because Louis _knows_ nothing is okay when you’ve lost your mom.

            He also knows lies help you get by, so he continues saying it. He tells Harry it _is_ going to be a happy birthday in spite of everything, and when he wakes up he’ll have his breakfast in bed and… And Louis tells him he can’t fix it, but he’ll try and make it better.

 

-

 

            The whole night is a blur to Harry. He wakes up with a strong light coming from the window and his whole body hurts. He lies on his back and keeps his eyes closed, trying to organize everything that has happened the night before in his head.

            He got pretty drunk, he did drugs again, Louis found him and—and took care of him. And he told Louis about… Things. It wasn’t a big revelation, for what he can tell, but still. It was very personal. And Louis hugged him till they fell asleep.

            Now Harry knows the bed is empty. He doesn’t remember if when he fell asleep he expected Louis to be there when he woke up, but if he did, he was stupid to do so. He and Louis are nothing. He shouldn’t have expected anything.

            Still, against all odds, when the door opens, the shorter model comes in trying to balance a tray in one hand while he closes the door with the other. He’s wearing joggers, a ragged shirt and a beanie, and he has an unsure smile on his face. The first thing that Harry thinks is _gorgeous_. The second one is: “what?”

            He also voices it, and that’s why Louis answers.

            “Morning, birthday boy”, he says like he’s shy and _really_ , who is he and what has he done with the Louis Harry knows?

            The Louis look alike places the tray on the bed and sits cross legged across from Harry. There are two mugs with hot water, tea, juice, a water bottle, eggs on toasts and- and a cupcake. Two, actually, but only one with a lit candle.

            “I can’t cook”, he says apologetic, “but I- I ran down the street and turns out there’s this amazing bakery there. Thinking now I guess I should’ve bought some more stuff, but I promise the eggs are good. They’re the only thing I _can_ do so I’ve mastered them over the years.”

            There are words coming out of his mouth but Harry isn’t sure he can follow them; he isn’t processing anything correctly, he’s sure of it. He also knows he has to _say_ something, because Louis is getting more uncomfortable and more unsure of himself by the second and no, he shouldn’t feel like that.

            “Harry?” He asks.

            “I’m- I. Good morning”, Harry says. It’s always nice to greet someone. “Were you replaced last night?” He blurts out.

            “I- W _hat_?”

            “Sorry, ‘s just-” Harry smiles, still a bit out of it. “Thank you”, he then says. “I’m shocked and I don’t really know how to react right now, but. Thank you. This is--- this is the best thing somebody’s done for me in a long time.”

            “Well, I won’t tell Niall”, Louis jokes and moves to get one mug. “I can never go without tea in the mornings… I’m sorry if you’re a coffee guy, I can’t make that.”

            “Tea’s fine. ‘S perfect”, he smiles reassuringly.

            They eat in a comfortable silence and that is the oddest thing, isn’t it?

            Harry isn’t sure of how much time passes until they finish the meal. He knows it’s considerably early since the rest of the house is still asleep, but he doesn’t bother to check the time, because this is weirdly nice and _just_ _nice_ isn’t something he gets very often nowadays.

 

            “Ready to blow your candle?” Louis asks then.

            “You got me a cupcake”, Harry replies in wonder.

            “Make a wish, H”, he says and Harry actually does, not missing how his heart melts a little at the _H_.

It’s not much, he just wishes to be _happy_ , which’s what he used to do when he was a kid.             _Birthday wishes never fail us, baby_ , his mother would say.

            They eat the cupcakes then and Harry comments on how good they taste, not even caring about the fact that it is _sugar_ and it’s bad for him. There’s a moment when Louis licks his fingers that gets Harry’s attention. He thinks about kissing him, but in the back of his mind he knows it isn’t right, because this isn’t their thing, is it?

            Of course they have kissed many times by now, but it was never like this, on a clear morning while they’re both nursing hangovers and having a polite chat. Harry doesn’t know what the boundaries are, but he knows the doesn’t want to cross them, so he makes himself focus on another thing, tries to look away and does the same with the remaining frost in his fingers.

            Once he looks up, Louis is closer and his blue eyes are darker and there’s a fraction of a second in which Harry thinks he will move away, but he surprises him once again by placing the sweetest of kisses to Harry’s mouth, and then pulls back smiling.

            “Happy birthday.”

            “Thanks”, Harry answers and manages not to choke. “Does this mean you don’t hate me anymore?”

            Louis scoffs.

            “It means I’m willing to give you a chance to prove to me you’re not the jackass I think you are most of the time.”

            “Do you go around making breakfast to jackasses on their birthdays? Is this your thing, then, Tomlinson?” He asks but with a playful smile on his face. He hopes Louis will go along with it.

            “I make exceptions… When the jackasses are extremely cute.”

            “’M not cute”, Harry rolls his eyes. “I’m manly and rugged and—”

            “A dreamer, clearly”, he laughs. “Last night you weren’t. A jackass, that is”, he says and then seems to think, “well, you were, up until a put my finger down your throat. Maybe you puked the idiot out of you”, he smiles cheerfully petting Harry on the back.

            “Yeah I’m- I’m sorry about that. Like I said, I was just—”

            “Trying to forget, yeah”, Louis dismisses it. “We do stupid things to avoid hurting. But more often than not we just manage to hurt ourselves even more.”

            “Speaking from experience?” Harry asks.

            “Something like that”, he replies. “But”, Louis interrupts before Harry can ask anything else, “it’s _your_ birthday. So what do you say? We can wake the guys up and find somewhere nice to have lunch? And then at night we can watch movies and eat more garbage…”

            “We can do that?” He is _sure_ he sounds like a child now. He also doesn’t care.

            “We can, Harry”, he laughs. “And maybe in the process I can show you I’m not that bad as well.”

            “I’d like that, yeah.”

            “Ok, so… Truce?” Louis offers Harry his hand.

            “Truce”, and Harry hugs him.

 

-

 

            For someone who didn’t want Liam there in the first place, Zayn is very quick to suggest Liam stays with them for the day, once everyone’s already out and Halsey says her goodbyes as well, thanking Zayn for the amazing party he hosted for her the night before.

            Louis doesn’t let it slide and pretends he’s heard them having sex and because of that he woke up in the middle of the night, making the Liam guy go redder than a tomato and Harry put a hand on his mouth to shut him up. Louis wants to say that there are _other_ ways Harry can do that, but since they’re on a truce, he figures hate sex is off the table, and any other kind of sex now would be just… Weird, right?

            Maybe they can be friends, Louis decides when they go out to eat. Maybe all of them can be friends, actually. It’s been only him and Zayn for so long, considering that Stan’s always playing some championship. Niall fits right in, Harry’s Niall’s best friend and Liam… Liam is shy, and more of a puppy than a journalist. If Zayn keeps his NDAs in check, Louis supposes they can stay in touch.

            Right after they ask for the bill, Harry’s phone rings and he steps away to answer it.

            “’S probably Des”, Niall says with a heavy sigh.

            “Who?” Zayn asks.

            “His dad, calls every year, three times a year. Harry’s birthday, Christmas and the day Anne died.”

            “His mom?” Louis asks and Niall nods. “I thought he had a good relationship with his father at least.”

            “He wouldn’t be drowning himself in alcohol last night if he did, Lou”, Zayn says.

            “Nah- his dad is… He’s not a bad guy, you know? They used to get along pretty well and I don’t think they, like, hate each other- when we were little we all spent a lot of time together. But he’s a homophobe. And he’s never tried to get past that…”

            “You know him?” Louis asks, eyeing Harry to make sure he’s not coming back yet. Somehow he really is interested.

            “Yeah. And I knew Anne too. When she—when she died, Hazz spent some time at my house and, yeah, it was shit. We’ve been doing everything together since we were ten.” He finishes a bit emotional, not looking them in the eyes.

            “He turned out pretty great then, right?” Liam says. “I mean, look at him now.”

            And Louis wants to say he got lucky, because that’s what he used to think and, well, that’s what happened, in theory. But now that he knows a little bit about his life it just feels wrong to say anything bad, given it’s his birthday and all that. The guy isn’t that privileged after all, is he?

Louis only sighs and agrees with Liam.

 

            The conversation changes when Harry comes back, because he’s still smiley and cheerful and asks the waitress to take a picture of them to post on Instagram. Politely, she asks if she can have a picture with him and Zayn and Liam, so they smile and hug while she gets her selfie.

            It’s a good day, and it ends with Zayn losing on FIFA, Liam getting kudos from his boss via skype for the interview with Harry and Niall receiving a call from a manager that was at the party yesterday who wants to talk to him about playing some other events.

            Most importantly, it ends with curls on Louis’ lap and deep voice talking slowly with him. It ends with peace and laughter and Louis doesn’t think he’s ever felt this normal. He doesn’t know how dangerous it is.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks, again, for everything.  
> Thoughts?


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Don't you have a soul?"  
> "If I had a soul I wouldn't accomplish a thing."

 

                                                            

            Louis’ day begins with a phone call. It’s never good when he gets one from this number, so he just hopes they misdialed him, even though that’s practically impossible. It’s still pretty early and February in NY is cold as fuck, especially because he’s back in Manhattan and alone.

            It’s ‘trainee month’ or whatever they like to call it, and, like for the past three or four years, Simon has asked him to welcome the new models and give them a lecture on what it’s like to work for Modest. The difference this year is that everything’s happening in the US, since the London office is being refurbished.

            He considers not picking it up, he really does, but _what if something’s happened to them?_ is in the back of his mind; he can’t help when his finger presses on the little green phone on the screen.

            “Hello”, he says and curses the universe cause it’s still six thirty am.

            “ _Good morning, is it mr Tomlinson?_ ” A low voice asks and he recognizes it being Monica’s.

            “Yes, Monica, it’s me, what happened?”

            “ _Well, first of all we would like to thank you for your generous donation to our organization, I hope you know it is much appreciated…_ ” Bullshit, okay. He waits. “ _Secondly… I understand you’re not in England right now?_ ”

            “No, I’m in New York for the next two weeks.”

            “ _Oh. Okay. I would like to ask if you can make some time in your schedule for when you come back then, because there are some things we need to talk about._ ”

            “Like?”

            _“Like what is going to happen in August this year._ ”

            Shit.

            “It’s still February”, he cries out.

            “ _Time flies, and this kind of thing takes time, so_.”

            “I’ll call you when I’m there.”

            “ _Thank you, mr Tomlinson. Have a nice day._ ”

            “It’s Louis, Monica”, he breathes out. “And yeah, you too”, Louis replies weakly and tries to go back to sleep because he’s still got two more hours before he needs to get up.

            It doesn’t happen, though, because his mind’s already rushing and making up terrible scenarios and he knows he needs to tell Simon sooner or later, because of course he must have forgotten after so many years.

 

            He gets up and tries to push it out of his mind wanking the tension off under the hot shower water, but then his mind gets foggy with something- someone else. Someone with curls and green eyes and, really, he can’t deal with that either, because everything’s pretty strange right now.

            So Louis closes the tap, towels himself and puts on the warmest clothes he can find in his hotel closet, noticing they still have tags on them; he texts Eleanor telling her what an angel she is, drinks his tea and finally goes downstairs to have some breakfast with Nick bloody Grimshaw of all people.

            After that, he gets to work, and like always, it’s the best thing about his life.

 

-

 

            Harry’s in London for seventy two hours doing exactly nothing in his hotel room before Olivia calls him to say it’s time to go to Paris, where he stays one week – he didn’t even have time to _miss_ the city.

According to his assistant, this _Numéro_ cover is one step up on the _Vogue_ cover ladder, and honestly, she seems more excited than he’ll ever be.

It’s not that Harry doesn’t want it, of course he does, but it’s not about how many covers he gets to appear on or how many fans he has; he doesn’t care _that much_ about his millions of twitter followers nor does he care about fancy dinners with thousands of flashes exploding on his face, and all of that because he’s always loved _fashion_.

Give him clothes to go through or a designer to meet and he’ll cry his eyes out of joy, but the rest is just a means to an end… And, you know, money, which’s important. So he smiles and nods along when she talks just so she feels indulged and appreciated, because she deserves it after all.

“You do know I’d be lost without you, right?” He smiles.

“Course I do”, she smiles back and then looks away.

(There are moments, small fractions in time, that he thinks she might like him more than just a friend, but he really hopes he’s wrong about that.)

Then he’s back in Japan for two interviews, because people _adore_ him over there and then he goes to German to shoot a commercial for Hugo Boss that has been scheduled for almost six months now, and he’s so excited that it is hard not to smile big whenever the director says the cameras are filming. That’s where he is when Jonas calls to let them know that YSL hasn’t given up exclusivity at all, but they’re willing to wait for him to sign contracts after the _Dior_ campaign.

 _Good things keep happening, it’s weird_ , he thinks when he’s on the plane back home. Being a positive person, he’s always expected the best… But it never happened to him like right now. It takes some getting used to, he supposes.

 

When he finally makes it back to England and visits Niall again – having promised that they’d see each other more in 2016 –, this is how his best mate opens the door:

            “I’m moving to LA”, he smiles and hugs Harry.

            “W-what?” He stutters as he kicks the door behind him, which doesn’t close properly, so he kindly detangles himself from him. “What?” He asks again when it’s properly locked.

            “I’m moving to LA. Next month.”

            “Okay. Why? How? What about uni?”

            “Well, you left uni, so…” He shrugs and Harry raises an eyebrow, but his friend cracks a laugh and speaks again before he gets lectured. “D’you know the guy I met at Zayn’s party? The one who wanted to talk to me about more gigs and stuff?” Harry nods. “Yeah, so, basically, they’re in the US, cause he’s American, and, yeah. He says I can transfer to a college there and everything, but. He wants to manage me, H.”

            “As a… DJ?” He frowns.

            “Well, you walk for a life and you got a manager”, he laughs. “Basically, yeah, but I told him I’m studying sound engineering and his friend has a studio and maybe I can go into producing sometime in the future? I don’t know. Can you just get happy for me?”

            “I’m ridiculously happy for you”, he opens a smile and moves to hug Niall again. “And proud”, he says.

            “Do not make me cry, you tosser.”

            “So, does that mean I need to find a house there then?” He asks and Niall looks at him in surprise. “Olivia says that once I close the deal with YSL I won’t need to be traveling as much as last year so, I was thinking about getting a flat here, in London?! But now, I mean—you’re my only family, so.”

            “Oh, Harold, Harold” and he might actually be crying.

            “LA’s sunny. You’re gonna like it there. I know I love it. ‘S gonna be nice.”

            It’s still pretty early to discuss anything, but Harry’s already picturing how his life can be in California if he eventually gets to settle down. He loves London and how it is quieter here, but he’s also very fond of palm trees and beaches and the general vibe of the place; people always seem happier and more cheerful in Los Angeles… Maybe he’ll get to be like them if he lives there.

            The topic changes in the next few hours, of course. Niall starts babbling about the party he’s going to throw to say goodbye to their uni mates and how he’s going to give the news to his parents, but Harry’s mind is already set into calling Zayn and asking if he knows any good real estate agent over there, since he’s got a place in Malibu as well.

 

            In the end, because they really don’t have the time and Niall really doesn’t have the money (and doesn’t accept when Harry says he’ll pay for everything because he _can_ ), Niall finds a small place with a suite and a bedroom that are smaller than the hotel rooms Harry’s used to staying in. He doesn’t complain, though, just says he’s glad he’ll have a place to leave this clothes when traveling instead of letting go of all of them in less than two months.

            Truth be told, he’s always donating everything he can’t carry around, but it’ll be nice to have some old trousers with holes on them made by time and a washing machine and not meticulously planned by a designer. Also, all of his storage stuff can finally have a place to stay in.

            When Harry left his dad’s house a few years ago, he put his things in a different place, because he and Niall did not have space in their uni flat ( _smaller_ than the one in LA) and he didn’t want to go back to Des’ house unless it was extremely necessary – he hasn’t seen him since the day he gave him the news he’d be a model.

 

            “All set?” He asks Niall smiling brightly as they tape the last box.

            “Yeah, thanks for doing that, Hazz”, his friend replies.

            The only thing Niall let Harry pay for completely was the moving company, because there were some things neither of them could throw away and, well, they are moving _overseas_ after all. It isn’t cheap.

            Niall drinks a beer while Harry stays on his juice diet and later they go to the pub, where all of their old friends go together to celebrate.

            “I called Liam, is that okay?” Niall asks.

            “Course.”

            “He just seems like a loner, doesn’t he?”

            “He does, Nialler. I’ll make sure he feels included. Now go get extremely drunk cause it’s your last week in London for a while.”

            So he does. They’re throwing the party in advance so Harry can be a part of it, because Niall’s only moving in five days, but Harry’s gotta be at the airport the next day.

            As if on cue, Liam arrives as soon as Niall leaves Harry’s side.

            “Hey”, he smiles sheepishly.

            “Hi, Liam”, Harry smiles politely. “Nice to see you again.”

            “You too”, Liam says, “thanks for inviting me.”

            “No problem, mate, get yourself a drink, we’re celebrating.”

            “Got work tomorrow”, he apologizes beforehand, “can only have a pint or two.”

            “That’s more than _I_ can drink, so”, he responds and Liam looks at him inquisitively. “Flying to Bali tomorrow for a couple of weeks.”

            “Oh, the Dior deal, somebody was talking about it at the office earlier… Big thing, Styles, good on ya. I’ll email you your interview if you want to approve it, by the way.”

            “Send it to Olivia”, he dismisses, “she’s got the eye for this kinda thing, I just look pretty--- most of the time anyway”, he laughs and then walks around with him introducing him to some of the guys and girls there… And the girls, well, they _really_ like Liam.

            Harry does not know if he’d go for them, but he encourages it anyway, because people are starting to get drunk, and it’s funny being the only one sober when all of your friends do embarrassing things.

By midnight, Liam, who couldn’t drink, is a lot more than _tipsy_ , and Harry just hopes he listens to his alarm going off the next morning.

            As it is, he asks him for his address and says he’s calling him a cab. Liam hugs him and thanks him, and right before getting in the cab he grabs Harry’s arm and asks:

            “Hm, you’re gonna see Louis tomorrow, aren’t you?” Harry nods. “Can you ask him if- if Zayn wants to talk to me again?” He looks down getting a bit red on the cheeks.

            “Why don’t you ask him yourself? I can give you his number”, he smiles.

            “He- he gave it to me, I just- can’t call? Cause what if he did it to be polite and then thinks I’m a stalker? He hated me because I was a journalist and maybe—maybe he fucked me because I was a fan? And I was easy? God, I _was_ easy, wasn’t I, Harry?”

            “Li, you’re drunk”, he laughs, “get in this damn cab, sober up, get to work tomorrow and then call Zayn. He won’t think you’re a stalker; if he gave you his number is because he wants you to call.”

            “You gave Louis your number. Does it mean you wanted him to call as well?” Liam’s already in the cab and Harry closes the door right before he answers _yes, but he just never did_. Maybe he’s a bid drunk too, so sleepy he is.

 

-

 

            Harry doesn’t think about Louis until he sees him the next morning, cause they’re flying together from London. He seems agitated and not happy at all, but still warm and cuddly and cute and Harry really wishes he knew how to approach him, since they haven’t spoken to each other since the day after Harry’s birthday, when he had to leave America and Louis stayed there.

            He walks towards him, though, where he’s sided by Nick and Eleanor and checks his phone to see if Olivia was supposed to be here too. Apparently not.

            “Morning”, he says yawning after sleeping a total of three and a half hours.

            “Morning, Harold”, Nick smiles and hugs him; Harry returns the hug and smiles, making Louis roll his eyes. What can Harry do? He’s an affectionate person. “Ready for an eighteen hour flight?”

            “Yeah, ‘m up for it. Louis?”

            “’D much rather be in my bed among me comforters to be honest”, he answers bitterly. “El, can you get us some coffee before we have to fly?”

            “There’s breakfast on the plane”, Nick tells him.

            “El?”

            “You hate coffee”, she frowns and smiles at the same time. Harry doesn’t know how she can manage that.

            “I’m also sleepy as fuck”, he says.

            “We can sleep on the plane”, Harry inputs.

            “What the fuck is wrong with you three? I just want some coffee, now, is that so difficult to understand?” He huffs out an angry breath. “Sorry, El. I can go get me own coffee”, and storms out.

            “Honestly, what’s wrong with him? Hasn’t even been five minutes that I’m here”, Harry says truly wounded. Weren’t they on a truce?

            “’S not about you”, is all Eleanor says and Harry understands he doesn’t get to ask _what_ it is about, but he hopes it won’t las long, because they have two weeks together ahead of them and he doesn’t know Gigi nor Kendall that well, and going two weeks without having an actual conversation with people can be really hard on Harry.

           

            As they board the plane, Nick assures them there will be an English speaker waiting for them at the airport, somebody who used to work at Modest and is now with Dior. “He’s a friend, ‘s a personal favor”, he tells Harry when he asks why the hell Dior’s PR guy would pick them up at the airport.

            They both say their goodbyes and get in it together. Louis hugs the pilot, says _good morning, pal, long time no see_ and it leaves Harry a bit surprised; maybe he’s one of those people who can direct his anger to whoever he wants. _Just my luck_ , Harry thinks and smiles to Preston – the pilot – too, saying _good morning, thanks for flying us_.

 

            It’s not that he _expects_ Louis to talk to him, but it kinda is.

            When the air hostess comes to tell them the breakfast is going to be served, right after they’re stable on air, they have been sitting in silence for almost forty minutes.

Flying first class is something he’s already used to, but he can count on his fingers how many times he’s been inside a private plane… Simon’s company private plane and it’s… It’s more beautiful than Harry’s childhood home has ever been.

            As Harry already expected, Louis is extremely warm with the lady and turns cold when she’s gone again. But then, while they’re eating, Louis shoulders lose their posture and he just leans forward, hitting his head on the table. For a second there Harry thinks he’s going to say something, but he just straightens up again and finishes eating.

            “I’m gonna head to the living room to watch a movie, if you want to”, Louis says already getting up, leaving Harry completely taken aback.

                       

            He doesn’t know how it happens. One minute he’s dragging a blanket with him to the TV room and sees Louis putting on _The Notebook_ giving him the _if you give me shit for watching this I’ll throw you out of this plane_ look and in the next the older model his curled up on him, sleeping softly on his shoulder and stealing his blanket.

            Harry doesn’t think he’s ever seen Louis look so young. His hair is extremely straight with nothing to make it fluffy or erect on a quiff and he’s in joggers and a jumper and he looks as cute as he did when he made him breakfast. Harry wonders if maybe it’s because of that day that Louis isn’t talking to him. Is he embarrassed that they were friendly with each other?

            _At least he’s being civil_ , Harry thinks and gets out of the couch, leaving the blanket on him but not allowing himself to stay for the cuddle.

            “There’s a room in there”, the air hostess, Jane is her name, points. “You can get some rest”, she smiles. “Or I can join you, if you’d like.”

            “Erm—thanks I. I have a long flight ahead, yeah? Need some sleep, I- yeah, thank you”, and makes his way to the bedroom, sleeping the minute he hits the mattress.

 

-

 

            When Louis wakes up his back’s hurting a bit but his head is all better. He’s warm and there’s a small light bothering his eyes, but apart from that, a sweet voice is saying something about _time to open your eyes_.

            “I’m sorry, you need to get back to your seat, sir, we’re about to land”, the woman tells him with an apologetic expression and Louis complies, getting out of the sofa and dragging the blanket with him just because.

            Harry’s already there, all soft eye sand curls, trying to adjust to the light himself. He is so fucking beautiful that it takes Louis a few seconds to go sit by his side and fasten up the seatbelt as Preston tells them they’re about to lose altitude.

            “Slept well?” He asks Harry, who looks at him with widened eyes like it’d be impossible for Louis to be nice to him, but…

            _Fuck_. Louis was a bitch to him at the airport, wasn’t he?

            Well, to be fair, he’s been being a bitch to everyone since the meeting with Monica in London, but he doesn’t go around announcing what is happening. He’s trying, though.

            “Y-yeah”, he answers just a little late. “You?”

            “Yeah”, Louis replies and looks away, not knowing what to say.

 

            It’s just past eight in the morning in Bali and the sky is gray, even though it must be at least 25 degrees, because the first thing they do when the leave the plane is take off their jumpers.

Ben Winston is the one to receive them, and despite Louis knowing him since he was very young, it’s with Harry he gets along the best… Of course. The both of them make good conversation all the way from the airport to the hotel, and when they get there, Harry says he’ll be down _in just a sec_ to have breakfast.

“Wait, do we have our own rooms?” He asks frowning.

“We better”, Louis snorts.

“Why, Tomlinson, planning on shagging locals?” Ben asks and smirks, Harry’s face falls a bit at that.

“No, _Winston_. I’m in a terrible mood and I don’t think it’s fair to put Harry through that for two weeks straight.”

“When are you _not_ moody?” Harry asks with a small smile on his face but seems to regret it instantly, because Louis could easily reply _when you’re coming down from a high and crying about your mum_.

Except that he won’t. He would never. So he laughs it away and waits for Ben to give them their room numbers.

 

            “You coming downstairs to have breakfast?” Harry asks once they reach their floor.

            “Nah, ‘m a bit sick actually. Gonna wait for somebody to contact us in my room, if that’s okay.”

            “Kay. Get better”, Harry says and enters his room. Louis waves trying to smile too and opens his door.

            _Let this trip be good_ , he pleads the universe.

 

-

 

            Since he found out he’d be coming to Bali, Harry started reading a lot of things about it. Apparently March is a good month for people to come here, cause the wet season is just transitioning to the much-awaited dry one, and the weather is a bit more pleasant than it is at the beginning of the year.

            It’s day three and it’s the first day Harry’s actually working. The temperature has been varying from 24 to 28 degrees and even though it’s hot as fuck for somebody who’s used to living in England, he acknowledges it’s the perfect weather for a summer campaign shoot.

            The girls are amazing. Of course he’d already met Kendall on occasion, but he doesn’t remember talking to Gigi till they were introduced on the first meeting, when Arnaldo – the photographer – alongside with the Gucci creative team put them in one of the _Grand Hyatt Bali Hotel_ conference rooms to let them know what was expected for the next two weeks.

            Basically, each one of them would take turns on shooting pictures and commercials through the days, but they’d also go on duos and groups. Meaning they wouldn’t have to work every single day, so they’d get to drink and explore the city. _Don’t overdo anything, though, we need you cheerful and healthy and looking stunning_ , Arnaldo had said.

 

-

 

            “Damn, you do photograph well”, Harry hears Arnaldo’s assistant talking to Louis and gets extremely curious to go over there and see what is on his laptop, but he focus on his cellphone and replying to Niall’s many questions about Louis’ cock up Harry’s ass. “Harry, come here”, the man then calls him and it takes a lot of effort on his part not to show he was paying attention to their conversation. He doesn’t know if it works, because Louis is smirking.

            “Hey”, he walks towards them, doing his best to keep his eyes off of the other model’s face.

            They’re at an amazing beach less than an hour away from the hotel and today the girls got the day off, since Louis and Harry are shooting together. Tomorrow’s only Louis, then only the girls. Harry’s alone photoshoot will be on Monday and only after that they’ll start on the commercials, because apparently, the photos take _longer_ than the videos to be chosen and edited, since there were too many and whatever went on the magazine would be there forever

“So, we’re thinking about a two page spread with you two posing together, since girls are always so sexualized- we thought… We can have both yeah? We’ll have girl ‘n girl, boy ‘n boy… Girl and boy.”

“Okay, yeah, sure”, Louis says.

“So, instead of posing side by side, Arnaldo’s gonna instruct you to pose more… Hm, intimately? It’s nothing too much, it’s just sexy enough so people will want to buy it and ship it, just like they used to do with Kendall and Cara.”

“Hm- fine by me”, Harry voices and Louis nods.

“May I- hm, ask something?” Louis already asks and the guy nods. “Why Gigi and not Cara? Isn’t she more experienced?”

“She’s also working for Chanel as we speak.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

After that they get back to working and Harry pretends the sexual tension isn’t eating him alive throughout the entire day, having to watch Louis half naked 100% of the time getting in and out of the water; at some point he gets scared he might be sporting a semi, but he does his best to breathe through his nostrils and calms himself down.

When the sun’s setting and it’s almost six thirty pm, they wrap it up, cause the lights aren’t helping anymore and Arnaldo resumes to taking pictures of the sky. Louis thanks the people that spent the day working with them and Harry does the same, and then they sit side by side on the sand, but stay in silence for a long time.

Louis is the one to initiate conversation.

“The pictures are coming out great”, he breathes out. “Have you seen some of them?”

“Some of them, yeah”, Harry offers. “God, look at this view” he then voices in awe. He’s seen his fair share of sunsets to know this one is probably the most beautiful he’s ever watched.

“Not a bad job, eh?” Louis elbows him with a small smile playing on his face. His hair’s a mess because of the wind and Harry’s only a bit better – probably – because as soon as they finished shooting he put it up on a bun.

“Can’t complain.”

“But…?” He defies him and arches a brow.

“Something’s missing”, Harry shrugs.

“Oh, come off it”, Louis scoffs, “you’re rich and famous now, Styles, get a fucking grip”, and laughs.

 _And here I was thinking I could have a true conversation_.

“Don’t you have a soul?” Harry asks and even though it was intended to sound angry and frustrated, he is genuinely curious, because he does not understand Louis. Has never. Probably _will_ _never_.

Because he _seems_ nice. He is a decent person, he is someone who sits on the grass at a private party to have wine from the bottle with the guy from the catering company and he makes breakfast to someone who did drugs the night before. So how come, in the blink of an eye, he can become someone so cynic? It’s just so wrong.

He’s waiting for an answer, and he hopes Louis will give him a truthful one. What comes out of his mouth, despite being true, for this kind of business, also makes Harry very, very sad.

“If I had a soul, I wouldn’t accomplish a thing”, he scoffs and gets up. “C’mon, you don’t work tomorrow, your drink’s on me”, Louis says offering Harry a hand.

            So they get up to their respective hotel rooms to shower and get to the lobby at seven pm, where they meet the girls and some of the crew people for dinner. The conversation is light and Louis is sitting by his side and everything is good. Someone’s talking about the weekend that’s coming, but Harry doesn’t actually pay attention—maybe because he’s too preoccupied on seeing the older model smile.

            Gigi calls his name and he looks at her, trying to focus on whatever she’s saying, but it’s just small talk about how she watched him throughout FW and wanted to talk to him, but never got the chance. He smiles and charms her, and she is actually a nice girl. Kendall jumps in a while later when they’re discussing Vogue’s ranking this year and tells them about how the hierarchy works there, because she knows.

            “How does it feel being on their cover four times now?” Gigi asks.

            “Tiring”, she pretends and they laugh.

            “Family name helps, I suppose”, the blond girl jokes and who is she to talk?  Isn’t her mother a former model?

            The brunette answers anyway.

            “Makes everything worse, really”, Kendall confesses and she reads in Harry’s eyes that he wants to know _why_. “It’s like I don’t deserve anything that I’ve got, I just got… Lucky, I guess? I don’t feel like I have worked much.”

            “And what’s wrong with it?” Gigi pushes harder and this time Harry answers before he can control himself.

            “Everything”, he finally says. “And it’s hypocritical of me to sit here and say that, because I got lucky too, I suppose, and… It sucks…  Knowing that some people probably worked really really hard to be here and we just… Ascended to the top.” He finishes and looks at Louis, and Louis offers him a small smile, excusing himself from the table.

            Harry shouldn’t follow him, but he does. He kind of runs to catch him before the lift doors close, but he needn’t have to worry, because Louis is holding the door for him.

            “Raincheck on my drink then?” He asks.

            “Oh, sorry, I- tomorrow? When I can drink too?” Louis says kind of uncertain and Harry gives him his best smile.

            The doors open and they step into the hallway walking side by side. Harry stops awkwardly at Louis’ door because he doesn’t actually want to go to his own room, but doesn’t know how to let Louis know that either.

            “Thanks”, Louis then says. “For saying what you said there, you didn’t have to.”

            “This is why you hated me, right? Because I got lucky?” Harry asks and Louis nods a bit shyly, which is uncharacteristic of him. “I cannot apologize for that and they can’t either, but, for what it’s worth, I admire you a lot. Always have.”

            “You don’t need to do that, Harry”, he laughs and opens his door. “Do not make me feel better for being an utter tit to you.”

            “Well, I was an ass before, wasn’t I?” He smiles and Louis sighs.

            “We’re on a truce”, the model reminds him. “See you for drinks tomorrow. Get some rest, Harold.”

            “Night, Louis. Good luck on your shoot.” And he walks away pretending he doesn’t want to kiss him silly till they fall asleep. _Tomorrow, maybe_ , he thinks.

 

            The next day Harry wakes up early to go out with Ben, who invited him to a golf club near the hotel when Harry expressed his interest in the game. They are welcomed there and get to play for a couple of hours and it’s really nice and sunny and hot. Harry’s in desperate need of a shower by lunchtime, but decides against going back to the hotel, because there’s nothing to do there.

            He visits a few museums to pass the time, buys some handcraft things, skypes with Niall from a café in the afternoon and answers some of the emails Olivia has been sending him for the past few days. When he finally makes it back to Grand Hyatt, it’s raining a lot, so he’s already all wet when he gets into the shower, curls sticking to his forehead.

            It’d be a lie if he said he weren’t excited to get drunk with Louis tonight, but only because it’s the first time they’ll have alcohol in their systems not hating each other. Harry doesn’t know much, but he _does_ know he wants to have sex with him again, and, well, if this isn’t the perfect opportunity, he doesn’t know what is.

 

            Everything happens differently, though.

            They’re at the hotel bar and ask for _Sate Varieties_ , a typical food from Bali, which is basically marinated, skewered and grilled meats served with a spicy sauce and Louis asks for a round of beers, just to start the night.

           But it’s when they’re on the third glass of _piña colada_ that Harry realizes he had forgotten about his initial plan, and the conversation doesn’t go anywhere near _we’re gonna fuck tonight_.

           Instead, they talk like two young guys on a night out who truly get along with each other and at one point Harry decides he’s okay with not going to bed with him in exchange to keep listening to his voice and that damn accent of his.

           And as Louis tells him about his favorite superheroes and how he prefers MARVEL to DC at any time of any day, Harry observes his eyes and he doesn’t think they’ve ever been this blue, not even when they were under the sun at the beach. Maybe it’s because he’s seeing him in a whole new light, maybe it’s because he’s a bit drunk; he doesn’t care much right now.

            Tonight he learns Louis _loves_ Spider Man and owns a Spider Man blanket back in London that is almost as old as Harry himself.

            “I wasn’t into superheroes when I was a kid”, Harry confesses, “unless you count Gordon Ramsay… He was my hero.”

            “And his superpower was what? The super-whisk?” Blue-eyed guy mocks.

            “Heeey, do not make fun of him”, Harry pokes his arm.

            “I’m serious”, Louis raises both hands in the air as if he’s defending himself. “I don’t know how to whisk, so”, he shrugs. “Always been jealous of him”, and they laugh. “Did he get you into cooking then?”

            “My mom did”, he tells him, “but he was a true inspiration.”

            “I can imagine”, Louis rolls his eyes.

            “What would you be doing if you weren’t a model?” Harry asks showing genuine interest and of course, at this moment, Louis retracts, his posture changes and his face assumes that _pay attention cause this is all you’re gonna get_ expression.

            “I honestly have no idea”, he voices then, and it sounds as sad as it sounds real. And maybe it isn’t the complete truth, but it’s still early. Harry orders another round of drinks.

            So they move on. They talk about the differences between the beginnings of their careers and Louis explains to Harry how different the market was for him than for the curly haired guy and how he had to learn to adapt his personality for different situations and when it’s half past midnight they decide to take the conversation upstairs, just because they’re both dizzy and Louis’ claims his body needs a bed after spending the entire day at the beach.

            Harry doesn’t know which room they’re meant to go, but he figures it’s Louis’s when the man holds the door open for him. Louis goes to the minibar and gets mini vodka bottles, throwing them on the bed, sitting there right after. _C’mon, Harold, get comfy_ , he calls.

            Louis smiles and. God. Harry literally needs to get a grip right now and focus on whatever he’s _saying_.

            He tells Harry about when he met Zayn – the complete story this time and not just the _fucked his date at his party_ version Harry already knew – and how he was the second person he could trust besides Stan.

            “I can’t believe you’re friends with Stanley Lucas”, is what he answers and Louis laughs loudly, and then touches his hand and. Oh. It feels nice.

            “You got that look again.”

            “What look?” Harry makes a face after finishing what he thinks it is the last mini bottle and looks around for water this time.

            “The one you gave me when we met, the—mesmerized one”, Louis says and offers him the water bottle that was by his bedside table.

            “I’m a big fan of his”, the younger guy tells him. “He’s a hell of a player.”

            “He is”, Louis smiles, not particularly happy, just like he’s reminiscing-- and then probably decides it’s okay to share with Harry what’s on his mind. “We used to play a lot together when we were younger, had so many plans for the future, me and him.”

            “Didn’t know you were childhood friends”, he says surprised and Louis nods. “A football player you would’ve been then?”

            “Maybe”, he shrugs and takes off his shirt and trousers, getting under the covers. “Don’t know”, Louis yawns.

            “What happened?”

            “Life, I suppose.”

            His eyes are already closed and Harry ponders if he should just go or if it’d be okay if he stayed. He really wants to stay – as creepy as it may be, he’d be glad just watching Louis for a while. In his drunken state, Harry finds out that soft Louis is his favorite Louis; maybe because he doesn’t get to see it often or... Ever, really, unless he’s sleeping.

            He takes off his own clothes then, leaving only his boxers on and gets on the other side of the bed, turning off the side lamp.

            “You’re staying”, Louis says and he sounds kind of surprised and pleased at the same time. Even in the dark, Harry can tell his eyes are open again.

            “Yeah.”

            “Thought I wasn’t your type”, Louis jokes lightly and Harry scoots closer.

            “To be honest I don’t think _I_ am my type anymore, so it’s okay”, he says so he doesn’t have to tell Louis anything right now, but doesn’t realize that what came out of his mouth was a confession nonetheless.

            He feels Louis’ arm cross his torso and Louis’ head rest on his shoulder.

           “You’re everybody’s type, Harry Styles.” He breathes into his neck.

           “Is that so?” He asks amusedly and shivering at the same time.

           “Hmhmm”, Louis murmurs.

           Harry's heart skips a few beats and then he falls asleep.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for everything, loves! <3  
> Thoughts?
> 
> See you soon xx.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Say it louder, say it louder  
> Who's gonna touch you like me, like me?  
> Ooh, said you wanna be good but you couldn't keep your composure (...)"
> 
> Shameless, The Weeknd

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there.  
> It's a slightly shorter chapter, but just because I couldn't mix plots in only one, hope I don't disappoint you.

 

             Louis doesn’t remember when the last time he woke up with someone by his side was; someone who wasn’t Zayn or Stan, that is. But now he’s stirring awake and there’s a solid presence by his side, snoring softly in his ear and there’s a chest rising up and down, a chest in which his head is rested. There’s a hand on his lower back and there are legs tangled in his and his heart’s beating a little out of sync when he realizes that it is Harry in his bed.

            The same Harry that was so, so endearing last night. The same Harry who shared food and drinks with him, who told him stupid jokes and listened attentively to every word he said, even if they weren’t interesting at all. The same Harry who he is finding really hard to _not_ like each day that passes in this island, the same Harry who is- oh. The same Harry who is hard pressing against his thigh.

            (Technically, Louis’ thigh is pressing to Harry’s crotch, but… Semantics.)

            Practically speaking, Louis has two options: he can get up and solve his own hard on in the shower and let Harry sleep, _or_ he can wake him up with kisses down his neck and a hand on his dick.

            Realistically speaking, only the second option is viable right now.

 

            He tries to adjust himself by Harry’s side in a way that his mouth’s one breath away from the boy’s neck, and as he moves his hand up and down Harry’s torso, he feels his stomach flutter under his palm.

            “Harry”, he whispers and feels him shiver at the same time he watches his lips curve upwards in a soft smile.

            “Morning”, Harry replies and catches Louis’ hand, that is rested on his belly, intertwining their fingers and bringing it to his mouth.

            Harry must be aware that he’s hard and so is Louis, their bodies are connected; Louis isn’t the only one thinking about sex now, is he? He hopes not. Harry kisses his knuckles lightly, making Louis’ mind dizzy for a few seconds, because gentle touches are _really_ uncharacteristic for them.

            He risks pressing a kiss to Harry’s neck and the younger model just goes even more pliant, turning his head to the other side so Louis has more access to this part of his body, and he doesn’t waste any time when he opens his mouth to trace his way up Harry’s mouth, nudging it open and tasting him like never before.

            (The pace is weird, because it’s slow and quiet and if he overthinks it, he’ll probably make up a ridiculous excuse to get out of the room.)

            “Louis”, Harry says to his mouth, between kisses. Louis never thought he’d be okay with morning breath in his life, but once they’ve kissed enough, under the sour taste of sleep, there’s only _Harry_. “Lou.”

            “Yeah?” He asks half opening his eyes.

            “We’re- hm, hard”, Harry states like it wasn’t already obvious.

            “And what are we going to do about it?” Louis asks straddling him and pressing their chests together, holding Harry’s hands by his sides and kissing from his cheek to his mouth to his jaw to his neck, sucking but not necessarily bruising.

            Harry turns just a bit and Louis stops, looking at him with inquisitive eyes.

            “Isn’t this- I mean-”, Harry’s thinking, Louis can tell. _Don’t think, thinking is bad_ , he wants to say. “It’s not going to make things awkward, right? Now that- that we’re- kinda, hm, friends?”

            “It’s only awkward if we make this awkward”, he answers quickly, grinding down on Harry’s cock and making him shut his eyes at the pressure. “Are we going to make things awkward?” He asks in his ear, licking his earlobe and biting lightly on it.

            “No”, Harry chokes out, hands already moving to Louis’ ass and making him rut against his crotch faster and harder.

            “Good”, Louis replies, not stopping, but lifting his body and taking off his shirt in the process. “Cause I’m gonna ride you so hard you’ll see stars even in daylight”, he finishes attaching his lips to Harry’s left nipple again while the other guy makes a great job at removing his own boxers and then Louis’s.

            From then on it’s a mix of loud moans and hot skin and too much want and too little time. Louis wants to trace every single part of Harry’s body at the same time he feels like he needs him inside _right now_ and he can’t wait anymore. Harrys pined to the bed and writhing against the sheets with red marks all across his torso, neck and arms that are going to turn purple any minute now (and for the time being none of them stops to care about the fact that they need to look impeccable because of the shoot).

            Louis can feel their cocks rubbing together and the sensation is so good, too good, never _this_ good. _God, stop thinking like this, get the supplies_ , his brain warns him and he gets off of Harry’s body, going to his bag to look for condoms and lube, cause they’re there somewhere.

            “Were you expecting this?” Harry asks sitting on the bed with a stupid grin on his face. Everything about Harry is stupid.

            “Can’t say I wasn’t”, he shrugs going for the truth and jumping back on the bed and on top of Harry, who laughs loudly and turns their bodies until he’s between Louis’ legs.

            “You didn’t call me”, he says seriously trying to read Louis’ face. “Why didn’t you call me?”

            And Louis wishes he had a good reason. At least one he could tell Harry right now. But he doesn’t.

            “We were both busy” He reasons at last and Harry doesn’t seem satisfied, so he continues. “I’m here now, aren’t I?”

            “We’re working, though.”

            “Oh, are we in porn now?” He quirks an eyebrow. “Where are the cameras?”

            Harry laughs and presses their mouths together, kissing him fast and deeply and Louis doesn’t realize he had already opened the lube and coated some to his fingers until he places a hand between his legs and parts his asscheeks with his thumb and forefinger.

            “Sneaky”, Louis accuses and moves up on the bed, opening his legs wider and waiting for Harry to do something, cause even though the moment’s sweet and calm, his cock’s throbbing and feeling completely neglected.

            “Tell me if I hurt you”, Harry warns and lowers himself, licking quickly on Louis’ dickhead but not staying there, just distracting him enough to press his middle finger into his hole, making Louis close his eyes and arch his neck a bit.

            _Who has such long fingers?_ He thinks as he circles his hips down trying to show Harry that he’s okay, he can give him more, he can take it, he wants to take it – so, so much.

 

            Harry’s up to three fingers and has his mouth closed around Louis’ dick again when he starts to sweat and fear he’ll come before he even gets Harry’s dick properly, so he pulls on Harry’s hair and brings him up, kissing him hotly licking the roof of his mouth and sucking on his tongue feeling Harry’s moans vibrating down his throat, his fingers never stopping his movements, every now and then hitting his prostate and making Louis’ eyes roll to the back of his head.

            “You think you’re ready?” Harry asks sucking a kiss on his hip right after and pressing on his prostate one more time.

            “Y-yeah”, he responds with a bit of difficulty, “I’m- Harry”, he calls when he presses again and again, just rubbing his fingers there and biting under his navel.

            “It’s so good watching you fall apart under me”, Harry says like a confession to his skin, “I don’t think I can let go of his yet”, he smiles a bit and scissors his fingers once again, making one of Louis’ leg move abruptly and involuntarily, “so hot—fuck.”

            “You’ll-ahh-you’ll have to”, Louis says, “cause it’s my turn now, princess”, he laughs and moves his hips again, Harry finally taking his fingers off of Louis and reaching for a condom, opening the package quickly with his teeth making Louis roll his eyes at him.

            “Since we’re filming a porn and all”, he excuses and they both laugh.

            Louis takes the open package from him and pushes Harry down on the mattress, straddling him and kissing his plush lips one more time, gripping on his hair and entwining his fingers there, making Harry grunt a bit.

            “When you do these-” Louis starts, “these sounds- I swear to God I”, he goes down on him, kissing his lower stomach and stroking his cock three times, noticing there was no need whatsoever cause Harry’s as hard as one can get, “when you shut your eyes and open his damn mouth, baby…”

            “It’s just- God”, Harry moans, “what you-- do to me, it’s—LOUIS”, Harry only kind of screams when Louis manages to roll down the condom on his cock using his mouth. (It hasn’t always worked, he’s proud it did now.)

            Louis smirks and positions himself above Harry, lining up his ass with Harry’s cock and only now it occurred to him how big Harry is and how long it’s been since he bottomed. At least he was wonderfully prepared.

            “Go slow”, Harry says sensing Louis’ sudden realization.

            “’M not a blushing virgin you know?” He smiles and strokes Harry’s dick behind him, supporting himself by his knees and one hand on Harry’s chest.

            “Oh, I know”, Harry snorts and places both hands on Louis’ hips, guiding him down and both of them hiss when Harry’s head breaks Louis’ entrance, Louis breathing heavily through his nostrils sliding down painfully slow. “Jesus fucking Christ”, Harry does that again, when he opens his mouth and shuts his eyes with such strength that the skin crinkles by its sides.

            Louis isn’t sure he’s able to articulate words right now. He feels full and hot all over and he is _burning_ inside, but it’s the best kind of burn. Harry keeps one hand on his hip and moves the other to his thighs, gripping tightly in one of them and whispering something like _these fucking legs_ , but Louis can’t quite understand.

            He kisses him again and feels one of Harry’s hand move hotly from the bottom of his spine to the hair on his nape, trying to control the kiss by gripping on it, and Louis moves his body in figures eight, trying to get used to the sensation and when he feels confident enough he sits up straight again, testing the waters and bouncing up and down three times in a row, dragging grunts out of Harry’s mouth and making the other model tighten his grip on his sides.

            “So. Big”, Louis punctuates his words as he goes up and down, taking Harry’s hands and placing them by each side of his head, intertwining their fingers and using them for support, finding a perfect angle to finally start riding him like he’s wanted since he laid eyes on him for the first time.

                       

            Louis can feel his legs burn and the muscles of his thighs tremble, but there is no way he’s stopping now. He’s found a pace many minutes ago that got the both of them to shut up, since they couldn’t be more coherent than many _ah-ahs_ and ­ _fucks_ or _God_ claims. His and Harry’s hands are sweaty and so is the rest of their bodies. His forehead is currently resting on Harry’s cheek and whenever he moans in his ear he feels Harry’s dick twitch inside of him and _HarryHarryHarry_ he chants nonstop.

            Harry untangles their hands and flattens his feet on the bed, taking a hold of Louis hips again and helping him move up and down at times, or just holding him in the air so he can fuck him moving from the bed to the air like a fucking machine and Louis swears he’s never had sex like this before, not being the bottom anyway.

            “Tell me you’re- you’re---” he starts but can’t finish.

            “I’m what?” Harry asks and brings Louis body down again, hitting his prostate nonstop and _fastfastfastfast- faster_. HOW?

            “Cl-close”, Louis throws his head back, hands completely useless, cock neglected. He doesn’t dare to touch it now or he’ll come right away.

            “I’m… Yeah”, Harry says breathily and moves his hips up again, Louis going up and down like a ragged doll in a fucking bouncing castle.

            Harry’s always been pliant for him, and Louis’ always loved it, because that’s his thing. But now that there are big hands doing whatever they want to him, curls molding his face and green eyes piercing every single part of his body, he doesn’t think being manhandled is that bad anymore. Or at all.

            “Don’t- don’t stop”, he says when he feels Harry slowing down his pace, and he starts meeting him halfway, grunting low on his throat whenever Harry’s cock hits him right on the spot over and over again, “I-I’m--- I. HARRY, GOD”, Louis screams when Harry supports him on air again and hits him hard, harder than before and stays pressed on his prostate. Louis body falls on his chest again at the sensation, both of them making noises when they hit the mattress, Louis kissing him again, not able to say anything else.

            Harry moves his hands down Louis ass and massages his asscheeks, indulging Louis in his short movements with their bodies connected. Louis’ dick _finally_ gets some attention when it’s trapped between their torsos and it’s like this that he comes all over Harry’s chest, allowing Harry a few more short thrusts before filling up the condom as well, with Louis’s name on his mouth.

 

            They’re both useless and spent lying side by side when Harry seems to gather enough courage to throw the condom in the bin and come back with a towel to clean themselves superficially. Louis’s breaths are just beginning to even when Harry throws the cloth away and pulls him closer, kissing him slowly but deeply, eyes closed, hand resting on his cheek and thumb stroking his jaw lightly, like he’s appreciating the moment.

            The sunlight’s creeping in through the curtains and Louis can only thank the gods neither of them has to shoot anything today. He can already see a purple mark on Harry’s neck and other right above his left nipple and when he puts a bit of pressure on it, Harry opens a smile and all Louis can think about is how beautiful he is.

            _You’re so, so beautiful. God, your smile… It’s so unfair the way your strawberry red lips stretch around those white perfect teeth. And those eyes, I’m not a romantic but I swear I could spend forever looking into them. Everything about you is soft and hot at the same time. And I think I like you a lot now that I don’t hate you. It was so much easier when I hated you. Why don’t I hate you anymore?_ Louis wants to say.

            “I hated you because you were right”, is what he actually says.

            “What?”

            “I hated you because you were right about me”, he explains. “When we met at that party. I don’t like when people are right about me. But you were.”

            “I-”, Louis stops him before Harry can continue, or he won’t say anything at all.

            “I am nice”, he states. “That was your number one, right? You said that I was nice because I’d grown up in a house full of women and—yeah, I did. It made me not only respect women but- be a better man, I suppose. And I am damaged goods- you didn’t know, _don’t_ know why, but you were right on that one too.”

            “Louis.”

            “Three more to go”, he says and places a finger on Harry’s mouth. Harry kisses his finger and he does his best not to go all soft. He fails. “You also said I was slippery and I think that the last few weeks proved that. I could’ve called, I didn’t, and I’m not even sorry for it—it’s not just about the job, it’s more like a consequence of number two.”

            “Lou, stop”, Harry says and takes his hand before Louis shuts him up again. “I don’t care.”

            “But I-”

            “I didn’t leave you that night because you weren’t my type”, Harry explains and rolls his eyes. “It’s because you were. So, so much my type it was ridiculous. And I liked you too much to have a model breaking my baker’s heart.”

            “Har-”

            “I had just gotten out of a relationship and- I’d never been good at being single, yeah? So I was just- trying to learn, I guess. You seemed like the perfect one night stand, because, well, you’d never look for me again, would you?”

            Louis wants to say that _yes_ , he would have. But he isn’t sure. He certainly would’ve _wanted to_ , but probably wouldn’t have acted on it.

            “And then my life turned upside down and when we met again you already hated me, so I played along.” He finishes and kisses Louis’ cheek.

            They stay quiet for a while, Harry’s fingers tracing light patterns on Louis’ upper arm.

            “I’m sorry I thought your life was easy”, he offers quietly then, “I didn’t know about your mum and. Yeah. I’m sorry.” He says it like he’s almost ashamed.

            “It’s not something that we announce is it?” Harry smiles fondly; Louis envies how he isn’t scared of showing emotions on his face. “Nobody walks around with _dead mommy and homophobic daddy_ on their foreheads.”

            Louis heart hurts with his words, because even though Harry goes for nonchalance, his demons are showing in his greener than green eyes.

            “No. But I’m sorry anyway”, he says.

            “I’m glad you don’t hate me anymore.” Harry says and pulls him even closer, their noses touching.

            “Me too”, and they kiss. And it’s… Nice.

            “Knew you could ride me”, Harry says laughing to Louis’ parted lips.

            “Oh shut up.”

 

-

 

            It’s four pm and they haven’t left the room yet. They’ve ordered room service, exchanged blowjobs in the shower and are currently playing videogame when the power goes off- which, what? Lights don’t go out at five-star hotels, do they? It’s also at four pm that they find out that in Bali, they do – but only the lights, electronics and air conditioner, at least at the hotel, cause the phone’s still working and so are the lifts, according to the man in the front desk, who explains politely what is happening.

            Apparently March hosts one of the biggest festivals in Bali. It’s called _Nyepi,_ which means “silent” in Bahasa Indonesian. Harry learns that it is the religious Hindu day of celebration for the Balinese New Year and, to celebrate it, people turn off electricity and refrain from all forms of entertainment for 24 hours, staying inside their houses. The idea is to self-reflect.

            _“Tourists are expected to follow suit, sir, but if it’s an inconvenience we can try and turn it on in your room again”_ , the man continues. _“We tried to contact your room to let you know it’d happen, but nobody picked up the phone- we apologize.”_

            “No, it’s- it’s okay”, Harry says. “What can we do with no lights though?”

            _“Local security guards patrol and watch the streets to make sure no one goes outside and breaks the rules, so I don’t think there’s much, really…”_

Oh. Okay.

            Harry thanks him and turns off the phone, turning to Louis and explaining everything to him. Louis scoffs and says that at least they have their phones to play with. He’s researching the name of the festival again when he runs out of battery, making Harry laugh loudly throwing himself on the bed again.

           

            There’s a knock on the door.

            Harry’s the one to move and open it, cause Louis is too busy hitting his head against the headboard, saying things like _I’m too much of a city boy for this shit_ and _please take me back to England._

“Hi”, a smiley Gigi says surprising Harry. “Told you they were sleeping together”, she turns to Kendall who is right by her side holding a bottle of what it looks like whisky.

            “I never said they weren’t.”

            “Who’s there, Harold?” Louis asks from the bed and Harry opens the door, letting the girls in. “Oh, hi.”

            “No lights, we thought we’d drink together”, Kendall explains. “Have you eaten yet?” They both nod. “D’you wanna drink with us?”

            “I am going to pass this one, but by all means”, Harry says and sits on the carpet with his back to the couch.

            “Why?” Gigi frowns.

            “We drank tons last night”, Louis explains.

            “How cute, he says _we_. Proper _couply_.” Kendall mocks.

            “We’re not a couple”, they both say too fast for their own good and the girls giggle and roll their eyes, the brunet model saying _of course_.

            But they really aren’t. Harry knows that, because he doesn’t allow himself even a spark of hope when it comes to Louis or he knows he’s done for. He still isn’t sure Louis actually _likes_ him actually.

            “Did you know about this festival when you agreed to come here?” Louis asks Gigi when she finishes her first gulp.

            “Yeah, I’ve been here before in March. Balinese people believe that if the island is silent and everyone’s indoors, evil spirits will think it’s empty and move on. Some kind of purification of the place for their New Year’s, I suppose”, she explains.

            “You believe this bullshit?”

            “You don’t?” She asks and he rolls his eyes again. “I think it’s pretty stupid not to believe in evil.”

            “Spirits aren’t evil, Gigi. People are”, Louis says seriously.

            “But what about bad people who died?” Kendall asks then.

            Louis opens this mouth twice but nothing comes out.

            “What bad could they do? If they’re dead?” Harry asks. “Actually, why are we talking about dead people? Ugh”, he fakes a shiver.

            “You scared, Hazza?” Louis asks and _oh_ , new nickname. Okay.

            Well, not exactly new, since Niall’s been calling him this since they were kids. But it rolls nice out of Louis tongue.

            “Look on the bright side”, Gigi interrupts before Harry can even articulate an answer. “Tomorrow there’s Ngembak Gen!”

            “And you think I know what this is because…?” Harry asks.

            “People here call it Omed-omedan, it’s a “mass kissing festival”—it’s also a Balinese tradition held amongst the youth to honor the healing power of a kiss.”

            “I like this tradition”, he answers.

            “Me too”, Louis says and Harry’s sure he sees a spark in Louis’ eyes when he looks at him.

 

 

            When nighttime comes, the girls are completely sloshed saying they wanna go to the beach and it takes a lot of convincing for Harry to take them back to their respective rooms. He tucks them in and Louis watches mesmerized, not knowing how someone can be so…Helpful? Obliging? He can’t find a word. He’s just ridiculously endeared.

            It’s difficult for him to feel this way when he knows it will end up badly for the both of them. Harry’s just told him he’s moving to LA with Niall right after they finish shooting in Bali, and even though he’s there a lot visiting Zayn, it’s not like it’ll be easy to stay in touch, especially because Louis has never _done_ this.

            His “relationships” that never were actual relationships all happened in fancy parties and fashion shows, but he never had to text someone to meet them, unless it was ‘club, 9pm, see you there’. He doesn’t know what Harry expects of him after this week and it scares him because it’s not a conversation he’s willing to have now, it’s not a conversation he can have without revealing too much of himself.

            Right now Harry’s looking at him like he’s an enigma, and he’s right. Because for every word Harry confesses, there is one Louis is holding, so he kisses him and whispers as filthily as he can _I wanna fuck you on the balcony_ , just to find out Harry’s exhibitionism kink.

 

-

 

            “Are you guys gonna kiss?” Kendall screams above the music.

            They’ve been dancing for a long time now, when they found a group of locals who speak great English. Louis’ taken a picture with Harry and the girls and uploaded it to his Instagram account and resumed to drinking juices, because they all have work first thing in the morning.

            “Well, it _is_ a kissing festival, isn’t it?” Harry asks and turns to Louis smiling.

            “Who are you kissing?” Louis asks Kendall and she turns to a blond guy with abs to die for and hazel eyes.

            “Will you kiss me? In the sake of celebrating the youth or whatever?”

            “You’re Kendall Jenner.” The guy says a bit star struck.

            “No shit, Sherlock!” She exclaims and they all laugh. “So?”

            So the guy kisses her.

            And Louis kisses Harry. And the world disappears.

            _DangerousDangerousDangerous_ is in the back of his mind. He doesn’t give a flying fuck at the moment.

 

-

 

            As the week goes on, exhaustion takes them over. They wake up early and go to sleep kinda late, because as the crew interacts more, they all go out to get to know the place. He goes out with Louis every night – not only the two of them… A lot of people go together (to the mall, to the beach, to other museums), but everyone seems aware that _they’re_ together. And Harry’s too aware of it too.

 

            Shooting videos is much more tiring than pictures, because they have actual lines to memorize and moves to repeat every time a scene isn’t good enough for the TV producers. Harry murmurs something about never being an actor in his life and Louis says that he wishes he could’ve been.

            It’s also the only new thing Harry’s learned about him this week.

            Well, it’s not true. He’s learned that Louis prefers the left side of the bed and wakes up in the middle of the night – generally around three am – to go to the bathroom, because they’ve been sleeping in the same room since Friday and having sex every night. He’s learned that his skin doesn’t get red like his own, instead, it acquires a caramel shade he’s only seen in _models_ whose pictures have been manipulated.

            As the days have passed, Harry’s learned that Louis isn’t particularly grumpy in the mornings if he’s awakened by soft kisses in the back of his ear and his breakfast consists of tea before anything else. Tea’s a religion to Louis, apparently, what keeps him British. He’s also learned he’s a great listener and not at all untrustworthy and he tells him that, apologizing again for the day they’ve met.

            Everything Harry’s learned, though, was by observing. “Wish I could’ve been one” (an actor, that is) is the first thing Louis actually _tells_ him apart from the “I grew up with a lot of women” statement – topic he didn’t elaborate on, of course. Harry holds on to that piece of information more than he should need to, but just because when they reach the end of the week and curl up together on the plane back to London he realizes that he’s falling in love with somebody he doesn’t really know.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Regarding Nyepi: it happens in March and tourists ARE expected to follow suit, but I adapted the 'timing' to fit in the story. I'm not sure how it works at hotels either, but let's just go with it, please? :P
> 
> All the love, as always.  
> Thx for putting up wiht me.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Like the ocean pulls the tide in  
> Just to hold it close  
> Like the rain pour in a rainstorm  
> Makes the flowers grow  
> You're the reason I believe in  
> Something I don't know."
> 
> So Easy, Philip Philips

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took way longer than expected and I'm really sorry. Been having hectic days!  
> Hope you don't hate me xx.
> 
> (I'm sorry for any mistakes, I'm really really sleepy rn.)

 

                                                        

 

            The month after Bali passes in two different paces.

            Chronologically, it flies by, especially because Louis received the news that his face and his name made Marc by Marc Jacobs extremely popular again and he has so many meetings and fittings to do and shoots to take that he barely stops to think about other problems in life, like the one waiting for him in London (where he doesn’t plan on returning to until late June).

            Emotionally speaking… It couldn’t pass slower. And the reason is pretty simple: Louis misses Harry. And for him to admit it, it’s because he really, really does, which makes him uncomfortable in more levels than he can actually count, since he can’t remember the last time this actually happened to him.

            Harry’s called twice and Louis has texted him a lot – well, at least a lot more than he’s ever texted a guy he was… Doing what? Is it called dating? Are they dating? Louis isn’t sure.

            When they said goodbye at the airport in London where Louis took a commercial flight back to NY and Harry headed to LA, they just agreed to “see where this was going”, even though right now it seems like it’s going nowhere if Louis is being honest with himself.

            Because right now he’s sitting in his hotel room watching Stan play one of the most difficult games of the championship so far and all he can think about is how much he wishes he could be back at the beach with that curly haired guy, who made life seem so much easier to be lived when he was, _is_ around.

 

            Manchester United scores with an assist from Stan, and Louis takes his phone to text and congratulate his friend before he forgets, and as soon as he does it, his eyes linger on the phone screen for a bit longer than usual.

            Maybe he could call Harry, right? Maybe it wouldn’t be weird. It’s three pm in New York, which means it’s lunchtime in LA, so even if Harry’s having a busy day, he might be free now, right? Right? He dials it before he can think anymore and waits for fifteen long seconds before Harry decides to answer the damn phone.

 

            _“Lou, hey”,_ he sounds very happy.

            “Hi there, what’s up?” Louis asks hoping he’ll have something – anything – interesting to talk about, because he’s got no topics whatsoever to discuss and he’ll be damned if he says something as cheesy as “just wanted to hear your voice”, even though that’s probably the truth.

            “ _Having a celebratory lunch with Niall and a few other people you don’t know… You?”_ There’s background noise but it fades away pretty quickly, Harry’s probably stepped out of the celebration.

            “Just lazing around my hotel room to be honest. What are you guys celebrating?”

            _“You know how Niall’s been trying to be a DJ but he really studies music engineering?”_ Louis only hums in agreement cause he isn’t sure he knew about the second part _. “So, this Julian guy kind of, hm, hired him? To work as an intern at his label? So yeah, that’s what we’re celebrating. Plus a few gigs he’s got lined up this month!”_

            “You do sound very happy, and kinda drunk. Are you drunk, Harold? Isn’t it, like, midday there?” He snorts.

            _“I’m just happy for him”,_ he says and Louis can picture his smile. “ _And-hm, happy you called too.”_

            Manchester scores again, Louis cheers silently and focuses on Harry on the other side of the phone.

            “I might’ve missed your voice, ‘s all”, he catches himself saying and _damn it_.

            “ _Really now?”_ And Harry _drags_ his words. _Damn him_ too.

            “Maybe”, Louis dismisses it the best he can.

            Somebody calls Harry in the background, a guy’s asking him whether he’s coming for the picture or not and _okay, that can be anyone_.

            _“Hm- Lou, I, I need to go but—what are you doing this weekend?”_ Harry asks a bit uncertain.

            _Nothing_.

            “A few parties”, Louis’s self-sabotaging mind replies.            

            _“Oh, yeah yeah, sure, listen, hm, Niall’s got a gig next Wednesday… Was gonna ask you to come this weekend but you’re busy, so, if you’re not- next week, I mean, you should come, ‘s gonna be a nice one.”_

            “It depends… How’s the weather in California?”

            _“It’s may, Louis, it’s starting to warm up… Still kinda cold, but still better than New York City.”_

“True that”, Louis sighs. “Okay, Harold, I’ll see you next week then.”

            “ _Good_ ”, _again_ , Louis can picture his smile. “ _Bye, Lou_ ”, and he hangs up before Louis can say _bye_ back, which is okay, he totally didn’t want to keep talking anyway.

 

            He finishes watching the game and decides to take a walk, maybe buy some stuff, cause the truth about being a model is that you get many ridiculously busy days when you can barely check the time on your phone, and then you get the slowest days ever, when you just have nowhere to be.

            Louis reaches out to Eleanor, but she’s in London visiting her family and doesn’t know when she’ll be back in the US, but tells him they’ll see each other in June, when he’s gotta be in Paris for the Dior party marking the beginning of the summer, which he isn’t particularly fond of, but he figures Harry will be there, so it’ll be okay.

            The thing is, Louis doesn’t seem to do anything nowadays that doesn’t include Harry and that’s just so weird and so… Unacceptable, really. Firstly because he doubts Harry’s doing the same – _of_ _course_ he treats him in a great way and _of_ _course_ he’s cute and charming and funny with Louis all of the fucking time, but maybe that’s just a _Harry_ quality and maybe he’s like that with everybody.

            Secondly: Louis has never been this person, so he’s scared he will 1) fuck this up and lose what they have, 2) not fuck this up and still have no idea on how to go about kind of liking a co-worker with whom he’s had lots and lots of sex this year. Come to think of it, Harry’s actually the _only_ guy Louis has had sex with in 2016 and _what the fuck_? When did this even happen?

            They aren’t exclusive, is the thing. So of course for the past month – and even before that, when they still “disliked” each other – Louis has been hooking up with random guys at random parties and even getting off with them, but full on sex? Yeah, last time that happened was against the bedroom wall in Bali when Harry had him facing the wallpaper and one of his legs supported by one arm while the other held tightly on his hips.

            Something’s gotta change, because, again, _they aren’t exclusive._

            So Louis does what he always does best when he catches himself lying: he makes the lie come true when he goes through his contacts on his phone and sends a few texts asking about parties in Manhattan. And that’s how, on Friday night, he finds himself at a nightclub with a crowd he hadn’t seen in a long while, including Luke, who he hasn’t seen since London Fashion Week.

 

            “Didn’t believe you were actually coming, man”, Calvin is the one to receive him in the private area.

            “Yeah well, been busy”, he says and half-hugs him. Louis has always liked him; for a straight guy he seems decent enough. Or not. He’s not sure. He doesn’t care that much. “What are we drinking?”

            “Shots, of course!” Oli shows up. Louis is not a fan of his, but mainly because the only reason he’s rich now is because he used his friends to get to a position in which his face is recognizable in this circle.

            He remembers the first time he met Oli and he thought _there’s no way this guy’s a model_ and he was right, because for almost a year he was actually Louis’ dealer. He shivers when he remembers that time, he pushes it away and smiles, taking a shot from the ginger guy’s hand.

            “Jesus, what is it?” He asks after what it tasted like pure alcohol keeps burning down his throat.

            “You don’t wanna know”, he says. “So, Tommo, can I get you anything else?” He smiles.

            “Still into that, uh?” Louis asks.

            “Still out?” Oli snorts passing a small package to Calvin, who takes it gladly.

            “Never going back to it” he rolls his eyes and takes another shot instead, walking past them going to say hi to the other guys and girls around.

 

            Luke finds him at the end of the night. And they kiss, and Louis goes back to Luke’s hotel where they sixty-nine and then fuck, and by the end of it Louis takes a shower and still feels dirty, even though he shouldn’t, even though he’s done nothing wrong. Luke kisses him again and asks if he’ll stay, but…

            “You’re not my type”, he tells him and smirks, because-

            “You literally _just_ had sex with me”, Luke laughs- _because:_ it’s a familiar scenario.

            “We had fun yeah?” Louis asks, buttoning his jeans. “That’s it, Luke, we’re friends.”

            “D’you do that with all of your friends?” He asks and sits on the bed, smiling like he knows the answer.

            “As a matter of fact… Kind of. And you do too, so let’s not complicate anything.”

            “I have guys pining after me, you know Tommo?”

            “Yeah- same”, he says because: true. “We don’t want them though, do we?”

            “I suppose not”, he shrugs. “You okay?”

            “Okay enough not to spill my feelings on you, thank you very much”, he laughs and decides it’s time he gets out of there. “See you around, Luke.”

 

 

            On Saturday, he does it again. Not with Luke, but- he fucks someone else. Because he just needs to get this horrible feeling out of him that he is doing something wrong when he clearly isn’t. So he finds a blond guy with caramel eyes that looks nothing like Harry Styles and pounds into him until sunlight is creeping through his curtains and he’s starting to sober up. The guy, nice enough and – Louis will admit – extremely good-looking, understands it’s time for him to go as soon as he catches his breath.

            Louis can’t sleep despite his efforts, so he repeats the same action of the morning before and takes a hot shower, asks room service to change his sheets and goes for a run. He’s almost on the other side of Central Park when Harry texts him a picture with Zayn and Niall and the three of them look really really drunk but also happy. Louis isn’t exactly happy now, but sends him a thumbs up emoji and a bunch of x’s back, hoping it’ll be okay.

           

-

 

            The moment he sees Harry he knows it’s not okay, but he pushes this thoughts away and hugs him anyway, with a smile on his face and a heavy suitcase in hands.

            “I’d totally invite you to stay with us, but the flat’s so small I feel kind of suffocated, really”, Harry says when they’re driving towards Zayn’s mansion.

            “It’s fine, I have my own room at Zayn’s, did you know?” He smiles cheekily.

            “I do, he told me”, Harry smiles back not taking his eyes off of the road. “Your codependence is cute--- not that me and Niall are any different at this point.”

            “I guess they’re just, like, our different versions of home, right?” Louis shrugs, because that’s how he’s always seen his best friends anyway, so it must be the same for Harry.

            “Y-yeah, I guess. You never go home though, do you? Like, home _home_. You’re from Doncaster, right?” He asks nonchalantly so if he has a secret agenda Louis doesn’t know, but it doesn’t actually matter because there’s no way he’s talking about it anyway.

            “Home’s a person, more than a place, isn’t it?” He says and doesn’t give him a chance to reply. “Why d’you guys live there then? You could afford a great flat, Harry”, he reasons, “I mean, we both know you got money.”

            “Was going to buy one in London, actually… And then he needed to move and I didn’t want to be alone. Ni’s a big believer in not taking advantage of my money even though I say it wouldn’t be like that at all… So… Yeah. Small flat until the makes enough to pay his part, I guess.”

            “That’s nice of you to wait it out”, Louis comments and Harry hums in return.

            It’s a silent drive from LAX to Toluca Lake, where Zayn’s place is situated, and Louis finds himself thinking about when Harry said he’d pick him up at the airport and: he didn’t. Louis just told him when he’d be arriving and by the time he got out of the plane there was a text from him saying _@ the parking lot, avoiding paparazzi_ and that was it.

            And it’s nice, and it’s perfect, and they haven’t kissed yet and Louis doesn’t know _when_ they will, but he’s itching already with want and something else that he can’t quite figure out what it is but makes his heart beat a bit faster than it normally does.

           

            Zayn isn’t home, as expected, so Louis – who is kind of tired of being alone – invites Harry in.

            “It’s a Tuesday afternoon, I feel like we should be working”, Harry says after Louis leaves his stuff in his room and goes back downstairs. Curly is sitting on the couch looking very, very cute.

            “And why would you feel such terrible thing?” Louis plops down by his side, smiling brightly.

            “Dunno, been doing pretty much nothing since we got back from Bali”, he shrugs and looks at Louis again, a small smile on the corner of his lips. “When Olivia told me I’d be comfortable with an exclusive contract I hadn’t realized there was such thing as _too_ comfortable.”

            “YSL is lucky to have you, though, bet you’ll look so hot in those trousers, fucking hell”, he laughs weakly and throws his head back, resting it on the back of the couch and turns to look at Harry again. “Have you signed the contracts yet?”

            “No, going there next week actually.”                                        

            “That’s great, Hazz”, Louis offers sincerely. “Congratulations.” And grabs his hand, just to touch him, really.

            “Thanks”, Harry smiles and his cheeks redden and—and it’s- it’s ridiculous how much Louis _loves_ that he’s able to see him like this when he’s so confident to the rest of the world. “Why don’t you have an exclusive deal? I bet you’ve been asked hundreds of times.”

            “Not really”, he responds even though he wasn’t planning on telling him. Harry just has this… Effect on him. “Some along the way yeah but- nothing worth it.”

            “You’re still working for Marc Jacobs though, right?” And Louis nods. “I was really pissed when Nick told me they’d practically thrown that much responsibility on you, but- hm, I’m really proud of what you’ve done.”

            Harry’s thumb is moving in circles on Louis knuckles and it’s really soothing, and they’re really, really close. And Harry’s eyes are really, really green. And Louis really, really wants to kiss him. So he gets a bit closer.

            “Do I get to ask another question?” Harry surprises him and backs off.

            Louis groans. “I suppose.”

            “D’you wanna have dinner with me?” Oh.

            “Dinner?”

            “Not dinner necessarily, but, like, go out? On a date?” Everything sounds like a question. Louis encourages him to continue. “I _know_ we’re just- like, friends? With benefits or whatever _seeing where this is going_ is. But I- I think I wanna take you out on a proper date- as fickle as this world is and as fast as you can just, like, lose interest in me, I still really think you’re a decent person, and I like you, and I wanna take you out to dinner. Even though you look extremely freaked out right now.” He laughs a bit at the end and Louis doesn’t know if it’s because his own face really looks terrified or to disguise Harry’s nervousness.

            Anyway, he says yes, because as fickle as this world is, and as fast as Harry can just, like, lose interest in him, he really likes Harry too.

 

            So Louis goes on a date with Harry and surprisingly so, they take all of the steps normal people take on first dates. Harry goes back to his flat promising he’ll be back at eight giving Louis enough time to stress about his hair and outfit, even though he’d literally _just_ seen Harry this afternoon.

            He’s trying to get into his jeans when a text pops up on his screen – Harry’ll be at Zayn’s in ten minutes. Cool, he’s totally cool. Except for the fact that he isn’t, he’s as far from cool as possible. Because Louis doesn’t know how to go on a date--- of course he knows how it _works_ , but for other people, because nothing – apart from work – has ever worked for him, right? And wow, that’s a lot of use for the word _work_ in the same thought, so he just finishes buttoning his trousers and slips on his shoes, deciding he’s got no time to change from his ADIDAS shirt right now and… Good, because the first thing Harry says when he opens the door is _ADIDAS looks good on you, you can totally pull this sports’ look_.

            “So does Louis Vuitton on you”, he throws back the compliment, “I feel ridiculously underdressed now though”, Louis says not really meaning it. They’ve got different styles and that’s completely okay.

            “It’s like we’re Posh and Becks”, Harry gives him a lopsided smile and opens the car door, earning an impressed look from Louis and turns around to get inside the car himself, “we’re fit and we _fit._ ”

            “This date hasn’t even begun and you’ve already started with the terrible jokes, honestly Harold…” He rolls his eyes but he’s actually very endeared and not nearly as nervous as he was seconds before looking into those eyes.

           

            As much as he wants to know where they’re going, Harry just says “you’ll know when we get there” and it doesn’t take long before Louis recognizes one of Los Angeles most famous bowling alleys, a really fancy place for people who are only interested in scoring some strikes and having a nice time, but Louis can appreciate it – cause it’s fun, and it’s posh, and it’s them.

            “I’ll so kick your ass”, Louis warns when they reach one of the private lanes that apparently Harry had booked in advance.

            “Where’s your first date etiquette? Jesus”, curly pretends to be outraged.

            “Lost somewhere in a bed in Bali, maybe”, he responds and Harry’s eyes shine brighter than anything Louis has ever seen… And he’s been around glitter a fucking lot over the past seven years.

            They order nachos and huge cokes, because none of them is currently working and their diets are not _that_ strict after all, and when they’re completely full and not really paying attention to the score anymore, Louis realizes it’s ten thirty already, but he hasn’t seen time pass. He tells that to Harry, and the other confesses he’s pretty unaware of anything else when he’s with Louis, which makes the older model’s stomach do a backflip it’s not used to.

            Harry suggests a drive after the game is over – and the other guy _has_ kicked his ass, indeed – and Louis thinks _okay, no alcohol, then_ , which will make things a bit harder for him. Because the thing is: Louis has this feeling in his gut that something’s off, but only because no matter what he does, he can’t shake the feeling that he should tell Harry about the guys he’s hooked up with over the last month. He doesn’t know how he’ll react, maybe he’s shagged people as well – a thought that makes Louis cringe internally – and it will be okay.

 

            They’re running from the waves hitting the shoreline and it’s the happiest Louis has been since his seventh birthday when his mother took him to watch his first Manchester United game with Stan and their team won. It’s a distant memory and it should hurt him, since he’s used to those kinds of thoughts hurting him, but it doesn’t. He’s thinking if he’ll ever tell his secrets to Harry when he catches him off guard and knocks him down on the sand.

            “Oaf”, Louis fake-complains and turns his head to the side, Harry’s mouth connecting with his neck and depositing a barely-there kiss. “Get off of me”, he grunts and pushes Harry away, making him fall by his side.

 

            “This is oddly romantic, isn’t it?” Harry asks after a while, when they’re both staring at the sky, or at least Louis thought so, cause when he turns his head to Harry, he’s staring right back at him.

            “Why oddly, though?” Louis asks furrowing his brows.

            “C’mon, Louis, we’re not- romantic”, he laughs lightly and Louis wants to trace his cheeks and jaw with the tip of his fingers, so he turns on his sides and does just that.

            “We could”, he offers.

            “I sense there’s a _but_ coming”, Harry curves his lips upwards but it doesn’t really reach his eyes.

            “Not really, just- I’m out of my depth with you.”

            “So am I”, Harry says and catches his hands, kissing his knuckles. “Should we talk?”

            “I’ve never had the talk”, Louis confesses maybe too quickly.

            “I don’t know what _the_ talk is”, the green-eyed guy smiles and kisses Louis’s hand again, getting on a sitting position and Louis sits too, not even caring about his full of sand design clothes right now. “I really missed you this month, you know”, he says then, feet flat on the sand, arms rested on his knees.

            “I missed you too, it was really embarrassing.”

            “Embarrassing?” Harry turns his head and studies him. He feels naked under his gaze.

            “Admitting it to myself”, Louis shrugs and Harry laughs. “I haven’t, hm. There’s something that’s bothering me.”

            “Okay…” Harry waits for him.

            “I haven’t exactly been monogamous”, he blurts out, “ _and_ , before you get mad, _don’t_ , cause we never said we were exclusive. Shit, Harry, we never said _anything_ , really, because _see where this is going_ when we’re not actually _seeing_ each other is a bit complicated right?”

            He’s already losing himself among his own words, but he doesn’t want Harry to say anything before he finishes, since Louis doesn’t always speaks his mind so bluntly.

            “And, as I said, I missed you. Like, a lot. Your ridiculous hair in the morning and your voice and just your lanky body and cheerful presence making fun of me and giving me a decent opponent to play FIFA with for once and I just- felt embarrassed and freaked out and went out a lot, no more than kisses and maybe a few blowjobs, right? And then I called you in the heat of the moment… Well, not heat of the moment, it was actually during a Man U game- ok, off topic”, he gathers his thoughts. “I called you. And I missed you more? And when you sounded so happy here I was like _okay, he’s having fun, he probably doesn’t miss you that much, he’s Harry Fucking Styles after all_ , so I might’ve gone out and fucked a few blokes. And it bothered me then and even more the second I saw you when I landed, so, yeah.”

            Three excruciating seconds pass before Harry speaks again.

            “You done?” Is what he asks. Louis nods. “Good God, how can you breathe and speak so fast? I’m kind of- like, slow?”

            “Really? Hadn’t noticed”, Louis smirks. “Your Fashion Week interviews were so awesome and eloquent-”, Harry shoves him lightly on the shoulder. “I just feel like I have to say it all in one go, you know? Or I won’t say anything at all.” He shrugs and looks straight into the darkness; the lights from the street aren’t near enough to illuminate the ocean. The moon didn’t make a bright appearance tonight.

            “First of all, I’ve been head over heels for you since before we met, _so_ into you that I almost choked when you walked towards the bar that June night in 2014. Secondly, I’m not mad, but I’m, like, bothered? Is that okay?” He asks hesitantly.

            “Yeah.”

            “And I’ve kind of slept around too”, he says biting his bottom lip. “I mean, you’d be surprised with how many closeted actors Hollywood has.”

            “Don’t I know”, Louis snorts.

            “But- but I was just trying to convince myself that I was okay with it, you know? Like, sleeping with other people? You’re the king of casual and I’m- not.”

            “Harry, you’ve been doing _casual_ since you got into this business”, Louis rolls his eyes but can’t help when his heart races a bit.

            “Doesn’t mean I’ve been enjoying it”, Harry says. “So, anyway, who am I to judge you right?”

            “Is it okay that I’m bothered too?” Louis asks in a small voice, cause really, the thought of some closeted snob having him spread out on a bed or having him _any other way_ makes Louis feel things he’s never felt before. (He doesn’t know it yet, but in a while he’ll name it as jealousy – and he won’t even be repulsed by feeling this way.)

            “I’m glad you are”, curly laughs quietly. “Means you like me a bit, right?”

            “Reckon I like you a lot, Hazz”, he says before he can control himself.

            “Good, that’s- that’s good”, Harry opens a dimpled smile and Louis pokes it, making him smile even wider, like _that_ is something that normal people do: smile brighter than the fucking sun. Actually, Harry’s whole being rivals the sun, and most often than not, wins with no difficulty whatsoever.

            He just… Shines. And by shining, he not only warms Louis up, but makes him feel a little brighter himself. For someone who’s always been so dark on the inside, it’s something really, really big when light finds its way in.

            They’ve been staring at each other for a while now, and Harry hasn’t moved, just lets Louis caress his face carefully, almost reverently.

            “Isn’t this the part where you kiss me?” Louis asks him.

            “Nope”, he says and gets up surprisingly fast, offering Louis a hand. “The part where I kiss you is when I’m dropping you off at your door. C’mon, chop chop, I’m rather fond of this part and eager for it!”

            “You’ve got this dating thing down to a science, don’t you?” Louis laughs and gets up easily with his help, walking by his side towards the sidewalk where Harry’s car is parked.

            “I had some help”, Harry confesses and looks down, almost like he wants to bite his nails but refrains from it, probably when he realizes his fingers are intertwined with Louis’s.

            “Yeah? Who helped you? Niall?” Louis raises an eyebrow, separating their hands so they can get in the car. He’s never felt more… _Couply_ with someone. He thought he’d be running for the hills right now. But he’s okay. Ish. (A part of him wishes he didn’t have other things in the back of his mind. Things Harry doesn’t know. Things he’s yet to face.)

            “Liam, actually.”

            “The reporter? The bloke Zayn fucked?” He asks unceremoniously.

            “Yeah, him. He’s actually a very nice person, you know?” Harry half-smiles. “And he likes your best friend, a lot. Told him to call Zayn. Tell him not to be a dick when he does, please.”

            “Zayn’s not a dick- like, ever”, Louis assures him. “He’s probably freaking out because he liked him too… Something about puppy eyes and huge dick?”

            “Do not need these details, Louis, thank you very much”, Harry snorts.

            It’s starting to rain when they’re halfway to Zayn’s mansion, but it’s not a storm yet, just little drops of water against the windshield.

            “If I have to know, _you_ have to know”, he teases but Harry asks if they can _please, please_ let this go, so Louis just laughs along and agrees, focusing on the music that is playing and the rain that gets more intense as they arrive in front of Zayn’s gate.

 

            Harry huffs out a heavy breath when he puts the car on parking mode and unbuckles the seatbelt turning to Louis, curls molding his face and eyes a bit darker than usual. He wonders if Harry’s one of those people whose eyes change colors according to the weather – he thinks he is. Can’t wait to confirm it on different mornings. _Wait, what?_

            “I’d take you to the front door, but I really don’t fancy the rain”, he says before Louis goes deeper into his thoughts about waking up next to Harry on a regular basis when they haven’t defined anything yet.

            “You were so close to ace this test, Harold, what a shame!” Louis fakes disgust.

            “Guess I’ll have to settle for asking if you’d like to do this again and if maybe, hm, you could avoid snogging other people? While I do the same?” He asks sheepishly.

            “Is that your way of asking me to be _exclusive_ , Harry Styles?” Louis tries to sound smug but he’s 99% sure he’s blushing too.

            “ _And_ avoiding labeling us, yeah”, he says.

            “You don’t like labels?” Louis frowns; doesn’t Harry always say he’s not used to undefined relationships?

            “ _You_ don’t like labels--- and ‘m not about to freak you out.”

            “Thanks”, Louis says and looks down, because suddenly he’s feeling like a schoolboy and his lap seems a lot more interesting than having to face Harry being so honest and so _nice_ to him.

            Harry’s like this, isn’t he? He’s nice just because, just for the sake of it. One more time, like a slap on his face, Louis understands why he became so successful so quickly. It wasn’t luck, or it wasn’t _just_ luck. It was his charming personality, his unearthly good looks and his great, _amazing_ self. It was the fact that everything he does is everything he _is_ : good. He doesn’t know if he’s deserving of it and he doesn’t realize when he voices it.

            So Harry pulls him by the hands and places a hand on the nape of his neck, and when even then Louis can’t face him, he whispers _just kiss me you fool_ and connects their lips.

            Out of every kiss he’s ever had with anybody else and every kiss he’ll ever have with Harry, this one is the best one, but just because this one makes him realize how easy it is to find happiness if you allow yourself to enjoy the complex simplicity of a person.

 

-

 

            If there’s one thing Harry’s learned about growing up with Niall is that he’s loud. He’s speaks loudly, he snores loudly, he has sex loudly (unfortunately, Harry’s heard it multiple times over the years), so of course his parties wouldn’t be different.

            He’s standing in the booth with him when Louis texts to let him know he’s arriving at the club with Zayn, but Zayn’s manager made them come through the front and now it’s hell, so he just keeps drinking his cocktail while Irish has the time of his life.

            They take a picture together and Niall instagrams it, really happy that his account has grown even more after they moved here. He’s already had many followers just for being Harry’s best friend, so now he’s over the moon.

            “Whose party is it anyway?” Harry screams over the music and Niall takes off the headphone asking him to repeat it louder. So Harry does. And he shrugs. “HOW COME YOU DON’T KNOW?” He laughs cause if the music stopped right at this second he’d sound like a maniac. It’s happened a lot to him.

            “I LITERALLY COME WHERE JULIAN AND JOHN TELL ME TO!” He smiles. John’s his manager, and Harry’s learned not joke about it (apparently DJs _do_ have managers). “IT IS WORKING, HAZZA, THAT’S WHAT’S IMPORT- LOOK, YOUR BOY!” He says and points to the dancefloor where Louis, Zayn and three security guards try and make their way to the VIP area.

            Harry pats Niall on the back and tells him to join their group later, after he finishes his set.

            The fact that Harry sees Louis all the time now and gets to touch him and everything does not diminish how attracted he feels to the model, so as soon as they’re close enough Harry pulls him by the waist and almost sucks the life out of him with a fierce kiss.

            A little bit of PDA never killed anyone.

            “Somebody’s happy to see me”, Louis says smugly with an arm around his neck and the other gripping on Harry’s right side.

            “Always”, Harry smirks and kisses his neck. “It’s nice to see you too, Zayn, have you called Liam yet?” He asks and laughs.

            “Hello, Harry, always a pleasure and- he called me, actually”, Zayn says getting three shots of vodka from a passing tray. “Here, here”, he hands it over to them and they click glasses before taking it down in one gulp.

            “He called you?” Harry asks curiously and doesn’t miss the fact that Lois hasn’t taken his hand from his hips. He likes it.

            “Yeah, apparently a friend in common has been saying for a couple of months now that he should, since I gave him my number.”

            “Smart friend”, Harry offers.

            “Wanker”, Zayn rolls his eyes.

            “He’s pretending to hate you but what he means is _thank you, Harry_ , _we spent over two hours on the phone and agreed to meet next time I’m in London which happens to be next week_ ”, Louis says and earns a murderous look from his best friend, but shrugs it off by getting them more shots.

            And that’s how the night passes by. The drink and they tease each other and by the time Niall gets there he’s got two girls by his side and none of them are called Barbara, just for a change.

            At three am they’re plastered enough that Louis actually drags Harry to the restrooms because he just _needs to suck him off_ and who is Harry to argue, right? But then they’re there, and Harry’s back is hurting pressing against the wall and Louis is sucking a bruising kiss to his neck while Harry wanks him off after having just come and _it’s been too long since I’ve had him in me_ , he thinks – his body and his mind are rarely in sync, but Louis makes that to him too – and when he finishes Louis off, he texts Niall DO NOT COME HOME TONIGHT in capital letters and drags him outta there, making his way to his tiny tiny flat, that is about to be Christened by him and his devilish boyf- _him and Louis_.

           

            Harry wakes up with no headache whatsoever and that’s pretty unusual after partying so hard like last night, but maybe coming three times in a few hours does that to a person – he’d certainly never done that before. He remembers clearly entering the flat and basically begging Louis to fuck him right then, and he also remembers Louis saying _let’s make it to the couch_ so you can ride me.

            He remembers bouncing faster and harder and he remembers Louis hitting him spot on every single time. And after they both came, he remembers falling on the floor, with their limbs tangled together and Louis _daring_ him to go for another round, and he remembers spreading his legs and welcoming Louis for another go, arching his back and having his hair pulled, and feeling his heart racing, and he remembers accepting, right before falling asleep, that he was – is – in love already.

            So even though he doesn’t wake up with a headache, he wakes up _knowing_ , for sure, that he loves Louis. Louis, that isn’t by his side. Louis, that is currently in the kitchen talking angrily with someone on the phone. Louis, that Harry still can’t figure out – but maybe that’s part of the _why_ he’s so into him.

            And the thing is: Harry’s and Niall’s flat is _small_ , right? And there’s no wall separating the kitchen and the living room, which doesn’t allow him to feel bad for listening. Louis isn’t exactly whispering either.

            “She did what? She called you? Fuck”, he can hear and only imagines Louis ruffling his own hair. “No, I know, but I hate it, you know? _She’s_ gonna hate me so much not matter what—”, there’s a pause. _Who is this she?_

            “The money won’t hold her there though- comes August and she’s on the street and then”, there’s pacing, there’s also Harry’s curiosity hitting a whole new level, because he remembers Louis on the phone on New Year’s Eve talking to somebody about sending money. Is it related to this talk? He doesn’t know. Louis speaks again.

            “Simon, I couldn’t care _less_ about my fucking career right now!” And at that Harry makes himself get up.

            When Louis sees that he’s up, two things happen: 1) his eyes widen comically like he _so_ wasn’t expecting this to happen, 2) Louis motions to the kettle like that scene isn’t happening and grabs a cup of tea, inviting Harry to get closer.

             “Look, I- I’m sorry she called you, I’ve already gone to a meeting and I’m trying to figure out what to do…” He sighs. “Yeah, I guess I _know_ , doesn’t mean I’m not scared.” Harry hugs him from behind and Louis rests his head on his chest. “No I’m- I’m at Harry’s------ no, he doesn’t know”, he says in a small voice and sighs again, like he’s really, really tired, even though he looks like he’s just woken up as well. “Yeah, probably”, Louis agrees to something. “Thank you for letting me know, Si. Bye.” And then he hangs up and turns his front to Harry’s, and he hugs him, and he sobs and he’s _so_ small right now that Harry’s not sure of what to do.

            Morning tea is forgotten as he maneuvers Louis to the room so they can lie on a proper bed, and when Louis’s grip loosens on his shirt and his tears stop, drying on his cheeks, Harry kisses him as softly as he can.

            “I suppose you’re not telling me what this is about”, he says and kisses his forehead, and his cheeks, and his nose.

            “No”, Louis says apologetic and kisses Harry square on the mouth.

            “Not ever?” Harry asks, furrowing his brows.

            “Not today”, he replies, voice hoarse for crying so much. He kisses Harry again, and it’s salty like tears and sweet like Louis. “Soon”, he whispers and places his head on Harry’s chest.

            Harry holds him as close as it is humanly possible.

            _Soon_. Okay. He can wait.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure if we're having 10 or 11 chapters + an epilogue, but I just thought I'd let you know we're almost there. Plus, I might be working on another plot. (I might be really in love with it too and eager to post. Oops.)
> 
> Your opinion is always much appreciated <3  
> All the love as always.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "There was a time when I was alone  
> Nowhere to go and no place to call home  
> My only friend was the man in the moon  
> And even sometimes he would go away, too (...)  
> "Run, run, lost boy," they say to me  
> Away from all of reality."
> 
> (Lost Boy, Ruth B)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, loves.  
> Hope you had an amazing Christmas however you celebrated it, wherever you were.
> 
> [It's late and I'm tired but I don't know if I'll be able to sit in front of my computer tomorrow, so I'm posting it now, cause I really wanted to give you this chapter before New Years. Beware that I haven't had time to revise it, so you might find some typos. I promise I'll correct them as soon as I have time. All the love.]

                                                                                                    

 

            When Harry wakes up, Louis isn’t with him anymore. Instead, he finds a post-it stuck to his forehead saying _needed to fly back to England, text me when you’re up_ and he falls asleep instantly before he starts overthinking what the hell is happening.

            When he opens his eyes again, it’s ten thirty and the only text he sends Louis is a bunch of question marks, because he was expecting a little more for a goodbye, maybe a kiss. Knowing he isn’t gonna get it now, Harry gets out of the bed and heads to the shower, thinking about the dull days he has ahead of him until he needs to fly to France and sign contracts. He was kind of expecting to spend them with Louis, but now he just doesn’t know. If he stays in and reads or watches tv shows every day nobody needs to know, right?

 

            Louis doesn’t answer his text until two pm the next day, which’s dinner time in London. He doesn’t explain much, he says it has to do with Simon’s phone call and it’s personal and he’ll tell Harry everything when he’s ready. And even though Harry’s agreed to this, he doesn’t quite know where he stands for the next couple of weeks.

            On Wednesday he’s had enough and tells Niall he’s going earlier to Paris.

            “Aren’t you supposed to be there only on Friday morning?” His friend frowns and pauses the videogame.

            “Not much to do here, right?” Harry shrugs.

            “Suppose not”, Niall agrees. “Hey, how are things with Louis?”

            Niall respects boundaries, always has. Not physical ones, but he gets when he shouldn’t meddle in emotional stuff; Niall also knows when his advices – as stupid as they can be sometimes – are needed. He’s always known Harry, he’s always been there for him, for the better or worse, during his most awesome days and his terrible breakdowns. He gets a free pass to ask whatever he wants; still, he starts off easily, because he just knows that’s what his best friend needs.

            This kind of friendship is an amazing thing; and if you ask Harry he’ll tell you that what he values the most aren’t the things that people do to him, but the moments in which they have no obligation whatsoever to be by your side, and you’ll still find them there; the moments in which you don’t really know what to say, but as you speak to them, you start finding out. True friendship is a very special kind of magic.

            “We’re exclusive, if that’s what you’re asking”, he smiles and sits by his side.

            “That’s not what I’m asking.” Niall squints his eyes.

            “What are you asking?”

            “Are you in love with him?” Ok. Blunt.

            “I--” and what’s the point of lying to someone who knew you were gay even before you did? “I am”, he says. “I am in love with him.”

            It’s the first time he says it out loud. It’s like a weight has been lifted from his shoulders and it crushes his body at the same time. To love someone should be easier than this, right? But maybe…

            “Does he love you back?”

            Maybe it’s difficult because Harry doesn’t know the answer to that.

            “I don’t know”, he says truthfully. “He’s- he’s different, you know? I can hardly figure out what’s going on in his head most of the time let alone what’s going on in his heart…” He throws his head back and rests it on the back of the couch, rambling as he stares at the ceiling. “Does it matter though?” He then looks at Niall. “We’re- together. And even if we weren’t, I wouldn’t just stop loving him if he didn’t love me because that’s not how it works, is it?”

            “Unfortunately, no”, Irish agrees. “But, for what it’s worth, he looks at you like you’re the sun, and it’s a nice contrast, since he’s- like, dark?”

            “Louis is not dark”, Harry laughs. “He shines.”

            “He really is dark, mate. Good dark, though”, he laughs too, only quieter, uncharacteristically. “I think you’re good for each other.”

            “I think so too”, he smiles and even sounds convinced.

            Harry doesn’t know if they are. He sure knows they’re in sync, that their conversations are easy and that their sex is quite frankly the best he’s ever and probably will ever have. He knows they complete each other in many ways and that their lives are similar, so he knows they understand each other’s problems and schedules. He also knows both of them are holding back, and the only reason for that is, well, Louis.

            You see, Harry’s always been a very open person. He doesn’t tell his life story to the first person who sits by his side on the train, but he never hides it either. If it comes up the topic, he’ll tell them about his family, his previous job, his mates from uni and his preference for cats. And with Louis is different, because he _wants_ to talk about _everything_ even when the topic doesn’t come up. He wants to cry because he misses his mother even though it isn’t his birthday and he isn’t high. He wants to be angry at his father without needing an apparent recent reason and he wants to bake ridiculous amounts of cupcakes just to decorate them and maybe give away for people on the street. For a couple of months now, he wants to do that with Louis.

            But Louis… Louis doesn’t talk about his past. Hell, he barely talks about his present. Louis doesn’t tell stories from his childhood and he doesn’t even pretend he is actually hiding it. It shouldn’t be important, Harry thinks. He should be okay with not knowing a few things. Except… It is important. And he isn’t okay.

 

            Harry lands in Paris on Thursday morning and spends the entire day shopping. He finds out Nick’s there and they go out for lunch at an overpriced restaurant near the Nike store Nicholas was shopping at.

            “You wear Nike?” Harry asks in disbelief.

            “To work out, yeah…” Nick replies and finishes his club soda. “So, tomorrow’s the big day, hun?”

            “Yeah”, he smiles bashfully. “I’m excited, I mean… It’s Saint Laurent.”

            “Simon’s over the moon. Up until now Louis was Modest’s best asset, you know?” His eyes are shining. Simon isn’t the only one over the moon.

            “Was?” Harry frowns.

            “He still brings more money, but that’s just because you’ve been with us, for, what? Less than two years? Yeah.”

            “He’s amazing, Nick”, Harry rolls his eyes.

            “He is, yeah—don’t have to _love_ him to recognize he’s a great model, ‘m just saying… Six more months and you’ll be bigger. Than everyone.”

            “I won’t.”

            “Okay Harold… Lie to yourself.”

            They go clubbing that night, and it’s fun, Harry feels free and happy and Nick pays for the night saying that it’s an early celebration for what he’s about to do the next day. When it’s almost midnight, Olivia joins them and by three am they all stumble drunk out of their minds to their hotel, with huge smiles on their faces and expecting a great hangover in a few hours.

            Throughout the whole night he snapchats Louis and Louis replies him pulling funny faces with Zayn and… Liam. Because they’re a thing now, apparently. Talking drunk with Nick and telling him all about it, he can’t help but feel a little jealous of how fast the two of them decided they liked each other and would give it a go. The next morning he pretends it didn’t happen when Grimshaw teases him over breakfast.

            “But aren’t you and Louis together though?” Olivia frowns.

            “We are”, and he can’t help the smile that spreads on his face.

            “Then what’s the problem?”

            “Harry thinks he doesn’t know Louis well enough.”

            “Honey, I’ve known him for over five years and I still feel like I don’t so…”

            “Great advice, Olivia, wow”, Nick rolls his eyes. “Just talk to him. Head to London and tell him you’re not fine not knowing things.”

            “But I told him I’d wait and--- why am I talking to you guys about this anyway?” He tries to sound angry and laughs, because the only person he’s angry with is himself at the moment.

            “I say you let this go for the time being and go upstairs put on some Dolce & Gabbana clothes cause we’re on the clock here…” His assistant interrupts his thoughts.

            “Why would I wear Dolce & Gabbana going in to sign with Yves Saint Laurent?” He frowns.

            “Would you go to a Fendi fashion show wearing Fendi?” She throws back at him.

            “Well, no-”, and when she’s just about to give him a _my point exactly_ look, he completes: “but just because Fendi is hideous and I wouldn’t wear Fendi. Period.” And Nick high-fives him.

            After that, Harry heads up to change clothes. He doesn’t dress in Dolce & Gabbana, instead, he goes for a lavender Burberry jumper and Levi’s jeans, because that’s what he feels comfortable in.

            Harry and Olivia say goodbye to Nick at eleven am and go together to YSL’s headquarters. If his hands are sweating and his inner child is screaming, nobody needs to know.

 

-

 

            “Oh my fucking God, just stop!” Louis groans. “I regret saying you could leave the hotel and stay here, Malik.”

            “You’re jealous cause Harry’s away”, he says and kisses Liam one more time.

            “Fuck”, he gets up and rolls his eyes, going to his fridge to fetch himself the third beer of the night.

            When he arrived in London at the beginning of the week, he was decided to work things out without waiting for August to come. First thing he did was schedule an urgent meeting with Simon in which he cried a bit more and felt powerless, much like his fifteen/sixteen year old self, but he also reminded he’s in control now, and he can actually do good.

            Simon asked him to wait at least one month before telling Monica he’d finally go there again, and told him that he’d go with him in case he needed. Louis knew it was something he needed to do alone, though – he just doesn’t know if it’s something he can keep from Harry any longer.

            They are together, aren’t they? This entire “exclusive” thing is an excuse not to use the word boyfriend, but just because he’s a little shit and he’s afraid of his own feelings – Louis has never been good at dealing with strong emotions, maybe because he’s learned to suppress them from a really young age. But… He likes Harry. He probably more than likes Harry and the thought of facing things and keeping him in the dark kind of makes him feel sick.

            Of course he’s talked to Stan. Of course Stan told him that, before Harry, he needs to make things clear to Zayn as well. _He deserves it, Lou_ , his childhood friend told him, and it’s true. So now he’s decided to tell Zayn, it’s just a question of _when_ , because he’s with Liam all. The. Time. He isn’t jealous, he just needs a moment. And maybe, just maybe, their kissing so much only bothers him because his boy is in another city celebrating his new contract and not right here to kiss him.

            _Not your boy yet, you twat_ , his brain tells him. _Not yet_ , the other side replies.

 

            It’s six pm when Liam gets called back at work and he’s left alone with Zayn.

            “Oh, Lou, tell Harry his article comes out on Sunday”, he smiles from the door. “See you later?” He asks Zayn.

            “I’ll come over”, he smiles and Liam goes.

            “Mate, you caught feelings so fast, how did this happen?” Louis asks like he’s disgusted. He just finds it funny, really.

            “We like each other. We hit it off that first day and now it’s just- I think I feel safe with him, ‘s all.”

            “Yeah?” Louis nudges his arm. “Tell me more.”

            “He’s a journalist, Louis. If he wanted he could’ve outed me by now… The NDA only worked for that party”, Zayn reminds him. “But he—likes me.”

            “He does, mate. Harry said he was panicking about never seeing you again.” And as if on cue, his phone screen lights up with a text from him.

            _Coming to London, haven’t booked a hotel._

            Louis just sends him his address back and risks a few x’s. Oh bloody, hell, he’s becoming a romantic too.

            “How’s that by the way?” Zayn asks and nods towards his phone.

            “It’s good, but I think I’m bored of apple…  Thinking the next one’s gonna be a samsu-AUCH”, he half-screams when his friend punches him. “Fuck you, Malik.” He waits patiently until Louis speaks again. “It’s fine. It’s not what I wanna talk to you about though.”

            And then Zayn goes into serious mode. And for the next hour or so he listens to everything Louis says; at times he rubs his back in soothing circles and tells him how proud of him he is, and how strong he thinks Louis is.

            Louis doesn’t cry, but just because Zayn does and he ends up comforting him. (One of the many reasons Louis doesn’t open up to people: they end up sadder than you and you have to comfort them, even if you’re the one who really, really needs comfort right now. But Zayn is worth it.)

            “Sorry, mate”, he laughs, “it’s just a lot to take in.”

            “It’s life,  I suppose”, he shrugs, because that’s what he does: makes his business seem less important than they actually are. Maybe this way he can deal with them better.

            Zayn tells him he’ll probably write a song or two about it, about him, his life, them, their friendship. Whatever it takes in order for him to wrap his mind around the fact that there is so much more to Louis than he leads on.

            At ten pm, Harry arrives and only then Zayn leaves, after making Louis promise he’ll come clean to Harry as soon as he accepts his feelings for the guy.

            It only takes him one smile and having Harry wrapped around his body in a tight hug to know it’s not normal to have missed someone so much when you’d just seen them; and it only takes one kiss for Louis to start thinking that for the first time in a long, long time, he feels love again.

 

-

 

            “Hmmm, you smell like _Bleu De Chanel_ ”, Louis says after nuzzling on his neck and nibbles on the spot just to emphasize what he’s just said. “So good, Hazz.” He murmurs making a shiver roll down Harry’s spine.

            “And you smell like chips”, Harry chuckles in his ear.

            “I do”, he replies and Harry can feel his smile on his collarbone and Louis rests is forehead on his shoulder. “I should go shower. Are you hungry?”

            “Not really”, he shrugs and starts unbuttoning his shirt. “Need help with that shower?” He raises an eyebrow.

            “Shower sex?” Louis smiles and starts pulling him into the ensuite by his belt.

            “Or just shower, whatever you want.”

            “You tired?” Louis asks and smiles softly at him, tracing the tip of his fingers from Harry’s cheek to his jaw, the other hand undoing the bun he’d put up to leave the plane.

            “A bit”, he replies while he stretches his body, arms up in the air, a yawn  leaving his mouth. “Late night, early morning.”

            “C’mon, let’s shower and then go to bed…”

            Harry lets himself be manhandled into the shower and listens while Louis promises a bath the next day. He lets him wash his hair and does the same to him, and they kiss underwater while their hands roam over each other’s bodies like they’re just discovering every little part, even though they’ve already had their mouths there countless times.

            Louis gives him open mouthed kisses on his neck and on his chest, gripping his ass without really squeezing, just massaging. He then reaches for his thighs and falls on his knees, lining his face with Harry’s half-hard cock. He takes it into his mouth without teasing, like he knows exactly what Harry needs right now and that’s exactly it: slow and steady, no need for words, just the water falling on his shoulders and Louis hot mouth enveloped around his shaft, the slickness of it all making him lose his mind and his hand closed in a tight fist in Louis’s wet hair.

            What he needs is to moan loudly not having to worry about someone else hearing it, just receiving Louis’s own moans in a whole different way; the vibrations on his cock are what brings him to the edge, and when he feels like he’s about to come, he brings Louis up again, kissing him fiercely and wrapping his hand around both of their cocks, listening to Louis’ soft whimpers in his mouth and then his whole body tremble on his.

            Right now Harry thinks nothing’s ever compared to this, and he bites his tongue no to say it out loud, afraid that more than that will come out.

 

            Louis bed is big and soft and-

            “Am I on the right side?” He asks when Louis enters the room with two cuppas.

            “You can have any side you want, I’ll end up all over you anyway”, Louis laughs lightly and passes him one, sitting by his side. They’re shoulder to shoulder sipping quietly when Louis speaks again. “You know…” He starts. “I think Bali ruined me.”

            “How so?” Harry lifts on of his lips on a sided smile.

            “I don’t think I sleep well by myself anymore.” Harry’s half smile became a huge grin in a millisecond. “I sleep, of course, but I just know I’ll sleep ten times better tonight.” He says while he places his cup on his bedside table.

            “You would’ve slept better the entire week hadn’t you left me in bed all alone…” Harry teases him and puts his cup down as well, making himself more comfortable on the bed. He receives a sad smile from Louis and opens his arm, where Louis fits himself right away. “Hey…” He looks at him. “Was just teasing you.”

            “’M sorry”, Louis says, but doesn’t meet his eyes, instead, he looks at his lips and kisses them ever so lightly before resting his head on Harry’s chest and crossing one arm over his torso, slotting a leg in between his. “I shouldn’t have left you with a post-it.”

            “You shouldn’t have”, Harry agrees.

            “I guess I’m just- I’m not used to this, you know?” Harry wants to ask _what, exactly?_ , but he feels like Louis shouldn’t be interrupted right now. “I’m not used to having- somebody there for me.”

            “You have Zayn. And Stan.”

            “Yeah, but I don’t—I mean I’m not”, Louis moves again and looks into Harry’s eyes. “I haven’t fallen for them.” At this time, Harry’s mouth falls open. And his heart’s beating so fast and so strongly that he can hear it.             “So it’s really hard, cause- cause I don’t know how to be in love. Especially not with someone like you.”

            “Lou”, Harry beams. And then kisses him. “You’re- you’re unbelievable, really”, he laughs into his mouth.

            “What?” He looks at him. They’re very close, and his eyes are very blue. Harry feels like he’s staring at the sky or the sea. It’s something equally beautiful, for sure. It’s Louis.

            _Louis_. Who is in love with him and who he loves back.

            “I thought I’d be the one to say it first…” Harry smiles. “I mean, I was sure of it, but I was so, so scared you’d just run off to Australia or somewhere equally far, far away…” He trails off. Louis his caressing his hair and resting half of his body on Harry’s. “I’m stupidly in love with you too.”

            “You are?” He looks… Amazed.

            “I am”, Harry smiles. He isn’t sure if he can _stop_ smiling right now. “And I don’t know how to do this either, you know? It’s been only me and, well, Niall for a long time now.”

            “I’ve been on my own for a long time too, Hazz”, Louis whispers. “So long.”

            “How long?” Harry asks and frowns his eyebrows.

            “Since I was fifteen. But- like. Really alone. Living by myself not knowing what I was going to eat the next day alone.”  This is Louis’ biggest confession so far.

            Harry can feel his body trembling and his eyes watering and he can _see_ all over Louis’s face how big it is to let these words slip. Right now he feels loved, yes, but, more than that. He feels privileged.

            “I’m so sorry, Lou”, he says and kisses his forehead.

            “I don’t know if I know how to love someone anymore”, he says in the lowest and smallest of voices. “And I don’t know how to be loved either. But I’ll try for you, H. I will.”

            “Shh, it’s okay, love. Sleep.”

            Louis presses a kiss to Harry’s chest and Harry leaves one on his head, running his fingers through his hair, thinking he won’t be able to sleep any time soon now that he’s imagining teenager Louis Tomlinson wandering England’s streets all alone.

            His chest hurts.

            When he thinks Louis is finally asleep, he murmurs: I love you and turns on his side, waiting for Harry to spoon him.

            “I love you too”, Harry says and kisses his nape, drifting off to sleep almost immediately this time.

 

-

 

           

            Louis wakes up with breakfast in bed. He had weird dreams and woke up twice during the night, but all it took was feel Harry’s arm around his smaller frame to go back to sleep, feeling safe and warm. Now, though… Now he’s wide awake. The smell of bacon has invaded his room and Harry’s smile is brightening up the place. He isn’t even scared when he thinks he could get used to this, because Harry said he loves him too.

            “You have really nice neighbors”, is the first thing that Harry says when he places a tray on the bed.

            “I do?”

            “Yeah. You were out of eggs and I was too lazy to go outside”, Harry shrugs and then pecks Louis’ lips.

            “You asked my neighbors for eggs?” Louis looks at him incredulous.

            “I did”, he beams again.

            “They gave you eggs because of your abs, that’s why they were nice…” Louis snorts. “They would’ve given you anything.” He rolls his eyes.

            “I wouldn’t have let them, silly”, he says and sits cross legged on the mattress.

            “God, are we gonna be one of those obnoxious couples that are all cute with each other a hundred percent of the time? Cause I don’t like those, but then again I’ve never been- what?” Louis stops mid-sentence when he sees Harry smiling so big with eyes shining so bright that he just _has_ to ask.

            “We’re a couple now, hm?”

            “I- I mean. D’you want to?” He asks, because there’s no other way now that’s out, right? And because he really wants to.

            “Do I want what?” Harry comes closer, dropping his voice and kissing Louis’s jaw, and then his neck and his shoulder.

            “D’you want to be my boyfriend, Harry Styles?” Louis asks smiling at him.

            “I’d love to, Louis Tomlinson”, he laughs and straddles him and kisses him. “C’mon, boyfriend, eat your breakfast, cause you’ll need energy for the rest of the day.”

            “Are we going out?”

            “Oh no-”, Harry smirks, “we’re staying in and you’re fucking me till I can’t walk anymore.”

            Louis likes this idea. A lot.

 

-

 

            It’s been four days since Harry arrived at Louis’s place.

            On Sunday Harry’s article came out and Louis woke him up with a copy of the GQ Magazine reading it out loud and acting like Harry had just won an award. Well, it definitely felt like it. Liam’s words were very kind. Then they actually went to Liam’s place to watch a game and drink a few beers with him and Zayn, since Zayn’s management’s been giving him shit for being away from the US so much with no woman by his side.

            They discussed Zayn’s closet and tried to encourage him to come out once and for all, and pretended that when he said _I think they want me to be in a serious relationship first_ he wasn’t looking straight into Liam’s eyes.

            On Monday, they called the agency to inform the status of their relationship, and Simon just smirked and congratulated them. Five minutes later Nick called Harry and gave him a lot of shit for moping around in Paris when Louis was just in love with him.

            This morning, Harry received his first email as an YSL model with his schedule and obligations towards the brand. Of course he can wear whatever he wants on a daily basis – even if he’ll receive tons of Saint Laurent clothes to advertise –, but he is bound to wear the brand on official events.

            “Even if it’s the British Fashion Awards?” Louis asks reading over his shoulders.

            “I believe so…”

            “You do know it’s- like, not nice for a British guy to wear French stuff at this kind of event, right?”

            “Didn’t you wear Dior last year?” Harry looks back smirking.

            “Buuut I guess that when you’re a worldwide famous model who doesn’t need to give _shit_ about what people think, you can pull it off”, he finishes and kisses Harry’s cheek, getting out of the bed and heading to the shower.

 

            It’s on the fifth day that the topic about Louis’s past comes up again. Zayn stopped by to say he’s going back to the US, because he needs to start recording one more album.

            “I’m happy for you too”, he says then, hugging Louis.

            They thank him and then he’s on his merry way, so both Louis and Harry race to the couch and spend the evening with ice cream and wine, watching reruns of Friends until they’re kissing messily and not paying attention to the TV  anymore.

            Louis sighs and rests his head on Harry’s shoulder before saying:

            “I used to watch it with my sisters.” And _that_ …

            “You have sisters?” Harry asks.

            “Two.” Harry waits. “Ask me, Harry.”

            “Ask you what?” He frowns.

            “Whatever it is that you wanna know…” Louis turns to him and kisses him on the mouth one more time to assure him that it’s okay.

            There are so many questions floating around Harry’s head at the moment that he just doesn’t know where to begin.

            “I’m… Are they older than you?”

            “Younger. Charlotte’s seventeen. Félicité is fourteen, I guess.”

            “You- guess?”

            “Haven’t seen them since- since I was fifteen.” He doesn’t look Harry in the eyes but it’s okay, Harry doesn’t need him to. But Louis is holding his hand tightly, like he needs Harry to ground him in this moment. It’s okay. He can do this.

            “Lou-”, Harry swallows with difficulty. “Did- did your mom, erm… Did she throw you out because you were gay?”

            Louis- Louis laughs. And Harry is taken aback.  Why is he laughing?

            “My mother doesn’t even know that I’m gay. Last time I saw her _I_ didn’t know I was gay”, he says and leans forward, seeking more contact. Harry kisses him again, this time on the cheek, and caresses his hair for a few seconds.

            “I don’t know what to ask, Lou”, he confesses. “I mean, I wanna know a million things- everything; but I can’t form a line of thought.”

            “Okay…” Louis takes a deep breath. “Okay, I can do this- yeah.” He breathes again. And again. “I lived in Doncaster, yeah? And when I was fifteen Lottie was nine and Fizzy was… Seven. So I’d always bring them back from school with me. I’d never stay afterhours with the guys because I needed to take them home since mom was working at this time… She’s- she was, I don’t know, a nurse, so she took the day shifts so she could be home with us at night… She worked a lot and I always helped with the girls, whenever I could. It was hard cause we were poor, but it was a good life, you know?” He looks at Harry for the first time and he nods encouragingly.

            Not much he can do but wait.

            “So, one day we came home and the house was empty, as always… I cooked them something cause we were all hungry and then I put the TV one while we all sat around to do our homeworks. I hated it, mind, but I was trying to set a good example for the girls…” He snorts and Harry feels and his pain. Louis’s eyes lost focus, like he’s relieving that day.

            Harry wants to tell him to stop, that he doesn’t need to remember anything, that he doesn’t want to see him crying again. But he also wants to _know_ , because he wants to be a part of Louis’ life and he wants to be able to help. Harry doesn’t want to be in the dark anymore.

            “It was ten pm when I realized mum wasn’t coming home that night, so I—I thought she’d gotten caught up at work you know? It happened and maybe that time she couldn’t call us… I- I didn’t know. The next day she wasn’t there and I sent the girls to school, I mean, I took them, and then I stopped by the hospital to see if she were there and…”

            “She wasn’t?”

            “She wasn’t”, Louis says and he’s _hurt_. “I went back home, because maybe, _maybe_ she’d be there again… But she was nowhere to be found Harry, _nowhere_. I remember sitting on our porch for hours that morning trying to call her or- anyone really, but. And then a neighbor came by. He was this old man and he looked okay, for somebody in his seventies… And he said _son, she isn’t coming back_.”

            And Louis continues. He tells Harry about how she left that day and never came back, and he tells him about how powerless he felt and how broken and how _fragile_ he was. But Harry can imagine, he can imagine it all. And the picture is terrible. And just so sad. He doesn’t know what to do but to hug Louis.

            Harry turns off the TV and uses both of his arms to secure that _boy_ in his embrace. He tells him he loves him a thousand times until the words are echoing around them and he promises to never leave, not even caring that their relationship is so… New. He doesn’t want Louis to feel alone ever again.

            “Two weeks later some people came and told us we needed to go with them… The girls were horrified and so was I- I hadn’t even explained to them properly what was happening, I don’t think I understood it either… So I- I ran. I told them I needed to go to the bathroom and just ran through the back door. I hate thirteen pounds in my pockets and- and that was it”, Louis’s tears are more frequent now. And he is speaking louder as well. He’s starting to lose it.

            “That was it?” Harry asks in a low, calm voice. _False_ calm voice. He wants to punch things.

            “I let them took my sisters”, he sobs, “and I left them and I- and I- Harry”, he cries. And he cries and he cries and Harry has to go to the kitchen to get him some water because he’s afraid Louis will choke at any minute.

            “Shh, Louis, shh—please, calm down, yeah? I love you. Calm down.”

            “Harry!” He cries out.

            “I know, please, shh”, he runs his hand through Louis hair and makes him drink more water. He doesn’t realize he is crying too but he refuses to let Louis take care of him right now. “If you want to stop, you can stop. It’s okay.”

            “There’s not much left to it”, Louis chokes out.  “I- I was on the streets for the longest of times”, he says. “I had some jobs here and there… Like, sweeping floors and stuff. And then Simon found me. A lot of people say I’m his puppy or- like, you know. They say my life’s in his hands.”

            “I’ve heard that, yeah.”

            “It’s true”, he manages a smile. “I’m grateful, you know? I would do anything he asked me to, but I’m also contractually obligated. He said he’d give me a home and a job, but I’d work for him and only for him. At the time I swear I thought he wanted me to become a rent boy or something like that…” He snorts. “I didn’t buy the whole model thing until I knew it was true.”

            “He helped you.”

            “He did. He’s the only person who knew the entire story for a long time. Well, and Stan, because he was there.”

            “Zayn…?”

            “Only told him this week”, Louis says. “And now you.”

            “Thank you”, Harry says and brings their intertwined fingers to his mouth to kiss Louis’ knuckles.

            “The first real salary I got I sent to the girls. They were in this orphanage in Donny… I had them moved to a better one in London and I was always scared or hoping… Not sure… They’d get adopted, but… I guess nobody wanted older kids.”

            “And you never contacted them?” He asks.

            “I’m a dick Harry, I-”

            “You were _young_ , Louis. You were a kid! I’m not judging I’m just… Asking.”

            “I never contacted them and as time went by I just sent a lot of money to the orphanage and asked for them to be taken care of- they always receive presents on their birthdays and Christmas, and they always get new clothes. I just could never-”, he sniffles. “Anyway, Monica is the woman who runs things… Remember before we went to Bali? At the airport?”

            “Yeah.”

            “I acted bitchy even though we’d just agreed on a truce, but… She had called around that time. And I knew that call was coming, but not that soon.”

            “What was that about?”

            “Lottie’s turning eighteen in August. She’s gonna get kicked out.”

            “Shit!”, Harry exclaims before he can think.

            “Yeah, _shit_. And then that day at your apartment _Simon_ called. The girls were under his name first so he’s, like, an emergency contact. So Monica called him too and he wanted me to know _what I am going to do_.” He isn’t crying anymore, he’s just talking in shutter speed. “I can’t let her out in the world like this- if, if she wants to go to uni I want her to. I want her to have somewhere to live and I want her to get a job and, and maybe now I can do that for Fizzy too, but everything is _so_ complicated. My mind’s everywhere right now.”

            “I can imagine”, Harry says breathing out the words like he’d been holding his breath all along. “Do you know what you want to do?”

            “I do, I just- I don’t know how and I don’t want to wait until August cause this has been eating me alive for these past few months, so… Yeah. And through it all, Harry… Through it all I still fell in love with you because… You make it easy, really. Even now I’m unloading this shit ton of emotion and yeah I’m sad and yeah my life pretty much sucked at some point, but- I can’t help but think that everything that happened to me led to you.”

            “Y-yeah, same”, Harry says. “Lou…” Louis lifts his head that was placed in Harry’s chest and hums a soft _hm?_ for Harry to continue. “D’you want me to help you figure this out?” Harry asks. And by “this”, Harry means _everything_. He doesn’t say it, because Louis knows.

            “I- I do, H. I would really love that”, he confesses, a small smile playing on his face.

            Harry hugs him one more time and tells him he will never have to be by himself anymore. And he means every single word.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've actually just posted a new story so check it out if you want to:  [Coming Up For Air](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5576374/chapters/12853243)
> 
> May 2016 be better for all of us!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, loves. I'm sorry it took me so long to update again. It's summertime in Brazil and I'm getting some well-deserved vacations, so I try to write as much as I can whenever I'm home... Which has been very little. I hope you like this chapter. All the love, M. 
> 
> [DISCLAIMER: I am not a lawyer nor am I aware of everything that happens in the fashion world so just pls keep in mind this is a work of FICCTION!]

When Louis decides he’s going to see his sisters it’s Simon he calls first, but it’s Harry’s hand he is holding while making the call.

            It’s late spring and it’s starting to get warm again; soon enough summer will take over and London’s gonna have its few deserved sunny days, he is hopeful. Right now he’s just had a sandwich of ice cream and cookies that Harry baked and is lying on his living room couch waiting for their boss to pick up the phone. He’s pretty content.

 

            “ _Hi, Louis_ ”, Simon’s voice finally comes from the other side of the line.

            “Si, hello”, Louis says trying not to show he’s nervous. He doesn’t tell him he’s on speaker for now. “How are you?”

            “ _Tired, and in a completely different time zone, so don’t ruin my not so good mood_ …”

            “Oh-hm”, Louis looks at Harry, who is giving him an encouraging look.

            “ _Spit it out, Tomlinson_ ”, his boss says impatiently.

            “Say it, Lou”, Harry whispers, but Simon catches on it.

 _“Is that Styles? Isn’t he supposed to be living in LA?”_ Simon asks and Louis laughs a bit, urging Harry to speak.

            “Hello, Simon. I’m-uhn, I’m at Louis’s.”

            “ _You’re at Louis’s_ ”, Simon repeats sternly. _“Doing what exactly…?”_ It’s like he’s teasing, but Louis is never sure with him, so he decides to answer truthfully.

            “I don’t think you wanna know…” Louis replies and both he and Harry barely refrain from laughing.

            “ _Oh, God”_ , Simon scoffs. “ _’S that why you called me? Cause I really don’t care who you shag, Louis…”_

            “No, no. I-uhn, I’m thinking about calling Monika and scheduling a meeting with the girls…”, he says. “And- like, better sooner than later, yeah? This is eating me alive and what’s the difference between now and August? So, yeah.”

            “ _You… Ok_ ”, Simon’s voice goes softer somehow. Louis hasn’t heard this tone in a long time. “ _What can I help you with, son?_ ”

            “With the legal stuff, I suppose”, Louis shrugs even though Simon can’t see it. “I know I won’t be able to do much for Lots because she will be eighteen, so I can only offer a home and- and a life, I guess, but Fizzy’s only fourteen and there’s no way I’m letting her live by herself if- if she talks to me again.” _If she remembers me_ being implied.

            She was so young when everything happened and Louis left with no goodbye… It would be understandable if she’d blocked him.

            “ _You do remember Roger, yes?”_ Simon asks. Roger was the lawyer that took care of everything when Simon rescued him. Saved him. Louis hums in agreement. “ _I’ll ask him to contact you as soon as possible, but…  If I can offer a piece of advice…”_

“Sure…”

            “ _Meet with the girls first and then think about legal matters…”_

“Yeah, of course, I- I’ll do that.” Louis says and Harry squeezes his hand.

            “ _And Louis… I’m glad you have someone for emotional support. Take care of him, Styles._ ” Simon finishes with a hint of a smile to his tone.

            “Me too”, Louis responds looking straight into Harry’s eyes at the same time he says _I will_ to the phone. They say their goodbyes and Louis puts his phone down just so Harry tackles him  to the ground, the couch being too small for the tickle fight that is about to happen.

            Harry, like the oaf he is, straddles Louis on the carpet and buries his hands on the older model’s sides and under his armpits, making Louis squirm underneath him and cry for help without really wanting it, kicking the air and trying his best to tickle Harry as well, but failing miserable and just giving up halfway through it, laughing louder and harder than when Stan colored Zayn’s hair in his sleep a couple of hours before he needed to go on stage, making his friend curse twelve generations and maybe cry a little over his then blond quiff.

            Louis is laughing and he feels carefree. He feels genuinely good and for the first time ever, maybe, he feels like he can do it – he can reconnect with his sisters and this gray cloud will stop hovering him. He feels protected and he doesn’t feel alone and he really doesn’t know how he could ever hate Harry. Harry, who has slowed down now and is looking at him with stars in his eyes and bouncy curls. Harry, who hasn’t left even though he could have by now.

            Louis has always thought of himself as a mess nobody would ever want to clean up, but Harry’s still here.

            “You’re so brave”, the green eyed says, lowering his body until their torsos are millimeters apart, connecting every time Louis breathes and raises his chest. “I’m so proud of you, Lou”, Harry smiles and Louis feels when his cheeks redden, but doesn’t even have time to feel ashamed or anything like it, because Harry’s thumbs are there, on each side of his face, stroking lightly like  he’s afraid Louis will bruise if he applies any more pressure.

            “Hazz…” Louis breathes out, reaching up so he can tangle one of his hands in his hair to caress it as well.

            Harry kisses him before he can say anything else. One of his hands is still on Louis cheek but the other one is by the side of his head, just so he can support his body. He kisses Louis’ upper lip first and then runs his tongue parting them, asking for permission to enter as if he needs it. Louis gives it to him, of course he does, and every single bone in his body melts as Harry works his tongue inside his mouth, slow and deep and so, so loving. Louis didn’t think a kiss could do that to a person until right now, but he feels cared for.

            Everything happens in slow motion. His hands run through Harry’s hair and his back, under his shirt, trying to get as much contact as possible, because he just needs to _feel_ Harry. He needs his calming presence and he needs his skin on his; he needs to touch and he needs to see and he needs, needs, needs.

            Harry seems to understand because he sits up again and takes off his shirt, doing the same to Louis’s right after, but never rushing, letting his fingers gaze from Louis’ lower stomach till his collarbones, provoking shivers anywhere he touches and- and Louis doesn’t _get_ it, because when Harry lowers himself again and fits his body in between Louis’ legs, he goes straight to his neck and kisses from one side to the other, and at the same time Louis’ entire body is in fact shivering, he also feels like he’s gonna burst into flames, cause it _burns_ , from inside out he feels the fire increasing and isn’t it the most consuming thing ever?

             He is panting by the time Harry gets on his feet and stretches his hand, guiding Louis to his own bedroom and laying him on the bed ever so softly, kissing his cheeks and his nose and then his mouth, once again, while he works on his jeans, massaging Louis’ bulge through the fabric and letting the softest of moans out when Louis bucks up pressing his groin to Harry’s, both hands on the model’s ass, making him grind on him and deepening the kiss. Louis doesn’t think he’s ever been kissed like this; he doesn’t think he’ll ever settle for anything else.

            There aren’t many words they could say right now, but even then, Harry knows the exact ones that make Louis lose himself completely in that boy. Man.

            “You’re so, so beautiful”, he whispers while _finally_ opening Louis’ trousers. “So beautiful and so brave and I am so luck to call you-”, he stops, but Louis doesn’t want him to.

            “Yours”, he says, because Harry needs to know.

            “Mine”, Harry finishes in wonder, like he actually _can’t_ believe Louis is there and Louis is his and- Louis can’t blame him, now can he?

            Because Louis doesn’t _give_ himself to people; Louis doesn’t even believe people belong to each other, because people are not- they’re not possessions, right? The mere thought of being someone else’s has always made him nervous and angry at the same time, but right at this moment, with Harry looming over him and kissing down his chest, guiding one of his hands in between Louis’ asscheeks so he can open him up, there isn’t a single doubt that Louis is _his_.

            And it’s not scary, it’s not terrible, it’s nothing like he thought it’d be. Because belonging to Harry just makes him freer, if there’s such a thing. Being with Harry is a contradiction itself and it’s something Louis never, not even in a billion years, thought he’d get to experience.

 

            Harry’s fucking him with two of his fingers now, and Louis is his. Louis is also his when Harry laps his tongue on his shaft so he can insert a third finger with ease and Louis is his when he closes his mouth around the head of his cock the moment he finds his prostate and drags the loudest of moans from him. Louis is his when Harry extracts his fingers searching for the condoms and Louis is his when he looks him in the eyes and asks him _please, don’t, I wanna feel you_. Louis is his when Harry is the first person to fuck him without a condom, and Louis is his when Harry marks his thrusts with _I love yous_ whispered right into his ear.

            The sudden realization comes then that it’s not fire that is burning him, it’s the _love_. Love is ripping him apart and mending him, love is making him dizzy and it’s also making him see clearer than ever. It’s love and it’s Harry and at this point they’re the same thing.

            “I love you too”, Louis chokes out eventually, “so much”, he manages to say once Harry picks up his pace after long, slow drags.

            Louis chants Harry’s name like it’s a prayer, and when he feels that strong feeling accumulating on his belly, he tightens his grip on Harry’s arm and hair, arching his back and meeting his thrusts with broken sobs and stifled gasps as Harry’s picks up the pace, hitting his prostate nonstop and marking his neck with sharp teeth.

            “Ha-Harry”, Louis pants and Harry envelopes his dick and strokes at the same time he thrusts, “I-I’m gonna-”

            “C’mon, love”, Harry urges him, “c’mon, Lou”, he says and nips on his earlobe.

            Louis is scratching his back and searches for his mouth needing it like he needs air. And he’s almost there he’s- Harry retracts as much as he can without slipping out of his ass and thrusts forward again: right, deep, strongly. And Louis is done for. He comes crying out an _OH GOD_ throwing his head back and clenching his hole around Harry’s dick, making the younger man come only seconds later, whispering _fuck_ in his ear, contrasting his deep and low voice with Louis’ loudness. They fit.

           

            “I guess this is my favorite part”, Harry says when he extracts himself from Louis, lying by his side breathing heavily.

            “The end?” Louis asks, raising a brow.

            “The- the feeling of release after a fantastic shag”, Harry explains. He has a playful smile on his face, but he’s serious at the same time. He turns on his side and scoots closer to Louis, bringing his hand up to his neck and stroking his jawline with a thumb. Harry kisses him square on the mouth one, two, three times, and backs off again, looking into his eyes- or his soul, Louis really isn’t sure right now. “I like this moment, right after… The breathing heavily and lying on each other and- smiles, and little laughs and—and holding one another. I like that.”

            “I like you”, Louis replies sappily. “I _love_ you”, he says then, kissing Harry one more time for good measure.       “I really, really, really love you.”

            “I really, really, really love you too”, Harry says and, before Louis can rest his head on his chest, he continues- “but, we really, really, really should take a shower right now.”

            “Don’t want to”, Louis complains. “Want to fall asleep with you.”

            “Babe, I just came inside of your ass, ‘s not gonna be pretty when we wake up”, Harry scrunches his nose.

            “I beg to differ”, he fakes outrage, “it was magnificent.”

            “It _was_ ”, Harry smiles, “but it’s not _going to be_ once you wake up.”

            “Sleep!” The blue eyed says stubbornly.

            “Shower”, Harry replies already getting up. He kisses Louis forehead and grabs his hands, putting him on a sitting position. “I’ll cook you dinner if you come and shower now.”

            “Can we at least take a bath so I don’t have to stand up?” Louis bargains. “Your cock, although pretty and fucking amazing, is also big as hell, Harold.”

            “Didn’t hear you complaining a few moments ago…” He says smugly.

            “Not complaining now either”, Louis smiles finally getting up. “Just stating a fact.” He kisses Harry and walks past him, making his way to the ensuite.

            “Bath it is”, Harry says more to himself than to Louis and follows him suit, just to find Louis bent over the bathtub opening the tap so the water can start filling it up and- _“Fuck_ ”, he voices hoarsely seeing the come, _his_ come sliding out of Louis hole and between his thighs. It’s obscene and 100% hot and Harry _hopes_ Louis can go for another round, cause his cock’s already half hard just by watching him.

            “See something you like?” Louis asks when he turns around and sees Harry standing by the doorway, mouth agape.

            “Yeah”, he smiles and grabs his own cock, stroking himself to full hardness and walks towards Louis, gripping on his waist and bringing him closer, kissing him hard and forcefully, backing him up against the bathroom counter.

            As it turns out, Louis can go for two more rounds. First Harry makes him come again with a blowjob by the tub, and then a third time, when he rides Harry while they take the bath, letting the water fall from the edges of the tub and wet the bathroom tiles. Louis jokes about not being so young anymore after the third time and that Harry’s trying to kill him…

            Harry laughs it off, finishes washing the both of them and tucks Louis to bed, lying on his back for at least twenty more minutes, just thanking the universe for his life tonight.

 

-

 

            Louis is only a bit nervous when he grabs the phone to call Monica. This time Harry isn’t with him, because after spending two and a half weeks at his place, he was called up in Paris for a first fitting at YSL and then headed back to LA, claiming Niall missed him loads and he had other meetings to attend – or at least that was what Olivia said when she picked up his phone this morning.

            Zayn’s tour has started, Stan’s back in Doncaster visiting his family, Simon is in Milan and Louis is alone, at least physically speaking. He could call Eleanor to help, but then again she doesn’t know what’s going on in his life right now (which… Bad. He needs to tell her eventually) and is on a meeting herself trying to get Louis the new Hugo Boss campaign.

            So Louis is alone. It’s just past nine am and he knows Monica’s at the orphanage; it shouldn’t be this hard to dial the number, now should it?                                       

            Except for the fact that it is. So, so damn hard.

            Like everything else, he does it anyway. Someone very wise had once told him that it was okay to be scared, he just needed to do it, whatever _it_ was, anyway, because then he’d know how strong he truly was. Louis really tries not to think it was his own mother who’d taught him that, but by the time he gave up forgetting her, he had already called Monica up.

 

-

 

            “Harold!”, Niall calls, more like _screams_ , from the kitchen.

            “I’m right here, Ni”, Harry raises his hand showing him that there was no need for screaming when the kitchen and the living room are practically the same thing.

            “Are you going out tonight?” His friend asks unfazed.

            “Yeah, thinking about it… Erika’s in town and asked me if I wanted to join her for a few drinks at the Montage.”

            “I’m assuming it’s a fancy place…”

            “A fancy hotel, yeah”, Harry laughs. “And you? Got any plans?”

            “Hm, no… Except maybe playing a gig at the Beckham mansion tonight, but-”

            “ _What?_ ” Harry gets up from the couch.

            “Your boyfriend introduced me to Brooklyn, mate- Posh Spice is throwing a party to celebrate the beginning of summer or whatever…”

            “Her name’s Victoria, Niall, please tell me you didn’t call her Posh Spice when she hired you...” Harry growls from where he’s standing.

            Harry’s met Victoria Beckham once, in China. She was as mesmerizing as he used to think – _still does_ – she was.

            “Course I did! And she called me not-so-posh-Irish!” He smiles big. Harry’s so fond of him. “Anyway, was going to invite ya, mate, but I guess you already have plans.”

            Harry rolls his eyes. “I think I can squeeze it in my schedule… Pretty sure Erika won’t mind going to the party as well.”

            “If you say so”, Niall says with fake nonchalance.

           

            As it turns out, Erika asked him for more than a drink between friends. _I’m afraid this is a business thing, Harry_ , she says when he’s in his second Daiquiri and Harry doesn’t even have to pretend to be a bit shocked, considering he genuinely thought they were only meeting to catch up.

            “Hit me with it, then”, he says and thinks he does a pretty good job at not frowning, because it’s the first time someone has wanted to talk to him about business without Olivia or at least       Jones around.

            For a split second Harry thinks about calling Nick and asking him to join them, because for all he knows, Grimshaw is in town too. But then again, if she wanted to speak to him alone, she must think he’s capable enough of making a choice – or naive enough to be persuaded. Harry hopes it isn’t the latter, especially because he doesn’t want to prove her right.

            “Vogue offered me a job”, she says.

            “I thought it was about _my_ business”, he breathes out kind of relieved. “Oh, wow, that’s amazing- I, I mean, have you accepted it? I thought you were happy at Oscar, but- Vogue.”

            “I am, happy at Oscar, that is, but- yeah. Vogue”, she smiles happily. “There’s a catch, though.”

            “Okay…”

            “It kind of is your business as well or- or it will be, if I get the job. Basically, I get the job if I can _make_ it your business.”

            “You’re not making sense at all, love.” He catches himself saying the sentence like Louis would. Oh well.

            “They’ll give me a position if I get you to be on their cover by the end of the year”, she says.

            “I- me?” His eyes widen.

            “Yeah, and Louis- _probably_ , I don’t know, they say they want a power couple for the December issue yeah? So they were dropping names like Cara and even Gigi God knows why…” She chuckles. Erika really doesn’t like Gigi. “And I said I’d read somewhere you two were dating- and Louis never got a proper cover there, so it’d be innovating for them to have an actual gay couple on an issue and also amazing for your careers… They liked it and _then_ said I could get the job if I convinced you two.”

            “I’m flattered you even thought I’d need convincing to pose for Vogue, my friend”, he laughs.

            Harry’s not stupid: he knows he’s still a _baby_ in this business. He knows his days are still being counted as he’s not established at all, not like Louis anyway. But the fact that she thought he would _deny_ Vogue makes him feel a bit full of himself. He can’t wait to text Louis, to be honest.

            “That’s not the catch, Harry”, she continues.

            Oh.

            “Ok, go on then.”

            “You’d be wearing Versace.”

            Harry _is_ stupid, he _is_ a baby, and of course the catch wasn’t for Erika, but for himself. Damn.

            “… Now, I do understand you’ve recently signed an exclusive contract with Yves Saint Laurent, so that’d be a problem, yeah?” She asks and then finishes her cuba libre.

            Harry feels like isn’t nearly as sober as he should be to have this conversation and that maybe, just maybe, he should discuss everything with Olivia before even talking about this properly with Erika. Because one thing he knows: if the word gets out that he’s even considering wearing another designer – one that is on the top three rivals of YSL –, he might as well be the model with the shortest exclusive contract of all times.

            Asking for another round of drinks, Erika seems happy with the confusion she’s caused to his mind. She keeps talking about maybe finding a loophole in his contract and that his lawyers could create one even if there isn’t, because that’s the easiest thing to do apparently, _she’s seen it done_ , and, well, _think about Louis, he’d love it, wouldn’t he?_ she asks then, at which point Harry draws the line and just tells her that _no, it isn’t happening_.

 

 

            “Why do they only want me if I’m wearing Versace, though?” He touches the subject again when they arrive at the Beckham mansion.

            “They want you wearing anything that isn’t Saint Laurent, basically”, she explains.

            “But _why_?” He presses.

            “It’s a power game, Harry”, she rolls her eyes as she gets the first champagne of the night, when they’ve barely walked through the doors.

            Harry can see Niall from a distance and also a few of his newest acquaintances in Los Angeles – mostly people who frequent the same circle as he does with whom he always chats and promises to catch up later for lunch but never really does. His friend waves and he holds up his hand indicating that he doesn’t need to move, he’ll get there eventually to talk to him.

            “Ok, explain”, he asks when he turns his attention back to her.

            “It’s Vogue NY”, she says. “They’re all about power and supremacy, yeah? So they want you bad, since you’re- well, _you_. But they gotta have an impossible condition just so people will know what they’re worth. Fashion is almost like politics”, she finishes.

            “Almost?” Harry raises an eyebrow.

            “Believe it or not… Politics is a lot dirtier”, and with that, she winks and walks out with the excuse that she’s just seen a friend across the room; maybe it’s true, or not, but Harry really doesn’t care.

            He walks around as well, talking to people and smiling at the right times; he half hugs Brooklyn and pretends he’s not a ten year old talking to an idol when it’s time to talk to David Beckham for the first time in his life. It’s certain to say he makes a fool of himself, but Brooklyn assures him he wasn’t as nearly as bad as Louis was a few years ago.

            “Where is he, by the way?” He asks. “Thought that wanker knew better than disappearing on me for more than a month.”

            Louis has told him Brooklyn actually considers him a close friend, but as much as Louis likes the lad, trust isn’t something that comes easily to him. He’s still trying to deal with Niall’s and Liam’s – and sometimes even Harry’s – closeness and constant presences in his life.

            “He’s sorting some things in London… I’m sure he’d love to be here tonight”, Harry says even though he doesn’t know that to be true.

            “I’m sure you’d love him to be here tonight”, he jokes and then Harry realizes that even though he and Louis haven’t said publicly that they’re together, everyone already knows.

            “I would yeah”, Harry smiles bashfully. “Life isn’t always like we want, is it?” He jokes.

            “No. That’s why there’s alcohol!” Brooklyn cheers and then grabs them both a shot of something that Harry isn’t sure he’s ever tried before. It tastes like death and _tutti frutti_ at the same time, so it’s terrible, but it’s also amazing.

            Harry only gets to talk to Niall an hour later, when he’s had more of that weird mixture and is giggly enough not to care about the way his hair looks when his friend pulls him in a headlock for a picture.

            “For lover boy!” Niall winks and Harry just sends it to Louis, completely forgetting about the time, completely forgetting that tomorrow is the day Louis meets his sisters after many, many years.

 

-

 

            Pastel walls and shared rooms with tons of other girls has been Félicité’s life for as long as she can remember, but not for Charlotte, which, at this point, she doesn’t know if it’s a blessing or a cursing. She’s watching her sister chuckle at some stupid video she’s watching on youtube while trying to braid her own hair just out of boredom when E! channel gets her attention.

            Lottie looks up and sees Louis’ name for the second time this week and pretends she doesn’t want to throw up, like she always does. She’s seventeen now and not a day goes by in which she doesn’t want to punch his stupid pretty face and yell at him for hours on end for bailing out on them when they needed him the most.

            You see, the thing about being an abandoned kid is that you learn to toughen up. Not because you feel like you need to, when you don’t have a parent, but just because it’s the only choice, really – there’s no alternative, certainly not when you’re nine and your younger sister is five and doesn’t even know how to read when you’re thrown at an orphanage.

            And it’s hard enough trying to wrap your mind around things as you grow up, but it’s even harder when the only person apart from your parents – who couldn’t give two craps about you (a dad who was barely ever there and a mom who just left) – who should be your safe place is out in the world making buckets of money and looking pretty on TV and magazines.

            If you ask Charlotte, the worst part of it all is that Fizzy doesn’t remember much. She’s learned who that Louis Tomlinson guy is through her sister, through her stories. She remembers so little – as should she. She remembers good times and she’s learned to live with the good memories, hoping to maybe one day understand how and why everything happened.

            (Félicité thinks that _maybe_ they weren’t enough for Louis to stick around and _that’s okay, Lots, we’re enough for each other_ , but Lottie knows better, because _she_ remembers her brother better than her sister does. And it hurts like hell simply _knowing_ that they truly weren’t enough.)

            There isn’t anything to be understood. People leave. Their mother left and less than three weeks later so did their brother. Nobody ever bothered with them ever again – only the _rich stranger_ who makes them look better than the other kids just because they get nice clothes and sometimes good presents.

            “You know it’s him, right?” Fizzy once asked her, on her twelfth birthday. “Maybe it’s his way of showing that he cares.”

            “It’s easy to say you care when you don’t actually have to be there for someone, Fizzy”, she responded and went to sleep pretending she didn’t love her new bag.

 

            When Monica enters the cafeteria just after three pm Lottie knows it’s time. She has that concerned look on her face like she really doesn’t want to be the one to tell her that, but, still.

            “Oh, God, please no”, she sinks down in the chair and, if she could, she’d hide under the lunch table forever and a day.

            “It doesn’t have to be bad, Lottie”, Fizzy says. “Hi, Monica”, she then smiles.

            “He’s here, girls”, she says unceremoniously. “I said you both agreed to meet with him. This hasn’t changed, has it?”

            Félicité nods vehemently and gets on her feet before Lottie can open her mouth, and the only choice left is to hug Em – her best friend at the orphanage – and thank her when she says _good luck, Lots_ , walking with her sister and Monica towards the room that’s been known as the _escape route_ – cause it’s there that every child that was ever considered being adopted went to meet with their foster parent. Neither of them has ever gotten the chance, simply because they were a package deal.

            “Is this gonna be okay?” She asks Monica trying really hard not to sound afraid. The woman nods. “And I can get outta there whenever I want to?”

            “Of course, Charlotte”, she assures her.

            “He’s our _brother_ , Lottie. Not a murderer”, Fizzy says and squeezes her hand. It’s funny cause once Fizzy started growing, she got taller than Lottie pretty quickly, but her eyes… Her eyes still show how young she is, how hopeful she is, and Charlotte doesn’t know how she’s managed that, not with everything that’s happened to them; but right now she squeezes her hand back, she tries to hold on to her sister’s strength, because the moment she sees Louis’s eyes again, her knees buckle, and she’s not sure who half-screams or cries first, but she hopes- oh God, she hopes, in all her seventeen year old glory, that it isn’t her.

 

            Louis came prepared. Or at least he thought so. But then again he hadn’t expected to see both of his little girls taller than him – at least one of them. He hadn’t expected the one he thinks to be Fizzy to look so much like his own mother and he hadn’t expected to see his eyes in Charlotte’s… And that’s not a good thing, because Louis knows what his eyes show whenever he isn’t with Harry: coldness, loneliness, hurt.

            That’s maybe why he’s the one to cry instantly, followed by Charlotte’s loud intake of breath that could be mistaken for a yell.

            He doesn’t quite know what to do, because he wants to hug them, he wants to tell them how much he’s missed them and he wants to apologize for never coming here before, but when Lottie sits down guided by the youngest of them, Louis takes she isn’t up for hugs right now. He sits down himself.

            “I’ll- I’ll give you guys some privacy”, Monica goes for a warm smile instead of a warning look and leaves the room.

            The moment the door closes, Fizzy is the first one to speak.

            “Why?” Is what she asks.

            “I was your age”, he shrugs and then clears his throat; the tears have stopped and now he can feel them drying on his cheeks. The girls are much like the same. “A few months older,  I- I was fifteen. If you’re asking why I ran through the backdoor, that is”, he says. “If you’re asking why mo- why _she_ left, then I don’t know. I’m as clueless as you are.” Louis finishes truthfully.

            “She’s asking why you only chose to come back now. It’s been years you know?” Lottie is the one to talk. God, he can hear so much of himself in her voice.

            “You’ll be eighteen in a couple of months”, he explains. “They’re- they’re gonna throw you out, so I-”

            “So you waited eight fucking years to tell us you never intended to come back until you absolutely needed to?” She asks.

            And… Yes? God. Louis is an awful person. And this was a terrible idea, because Harry isn’t here to tell him otherwise and he’s _so_ getting inside his own head right now and having the darkest of thoughts by just agreeing with Lottie. Fuck.

            “Lots”, Fizzy calls, “what would you have done at fifteen?” She asks and Louis looks at her. Maybe she’s the most mature of them all.

            “Probably the same thing”, she confesses, “but then if I ever got to be famous and rich as fuck, I’d come back in a heartbeat. But then, _then_ I would probably miss out on night-outs and trips and magazine covers and free alcohol right? Cause that must’ve been more important for you to never show up, Louis.” The way she says his name… He hadn’t prepared for that either.

            “So you know who I am?” He asks. “I mean, you know I’m…”

            “Your face’s been everywhere for as long as I can remember”, is Fizzy who says right now. “You were a dick for never showing up, you know?”

            “I do.”

            “But you’re here now, so… That means you care at least a little?” She tries.

            “I care a lot, Fiz”, he corrects her. “I- I’m. I’m so sorry”, Louis tries again. “I guess I never had the guts and maybe… No, I _am_ an asshole for only coming when it became strictly necessary, definitely, but… I came. And I’m here. And if you let me, Lots-” he says and gets up, trying to get closer to the both of them, “if you both let me, I’ll tell you my side of the story, and I’ll hear yours and- and I’ll never disappear from your lives ever again.”

            Louis breathes in and out several times remembering what Harry told him the day he scheduled this visit: _you just need to try, Lou. Show them you’re really trying, and they’ll want to try with you_. Louis hopes Harry was right while he waits for an answer.

 

            “What happened to you when you ran then?” Lottie finally asks.

            The first steps are always the hardest, aren’t they? Louis is glad they decided to take them as well as he braces himself to tell them everything. Hoping, praying that, by the end of it, they’ll decide to walk the rest of the path with him.

            Now that Louis has found love again – in Harry, and in the girls, who are standing across from him with broken hearts and big blue eyes – he doesn’t think he can ever go back to living without it.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll try to post the next update by Thursday next week.   
> Until then... Thoughts? :)


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting one day earlier than I had previously thought because I'm not sure I'll have the time to do it tomorrow. Hope you all enjoy it.
> 
> Thanks for reading it!! Looking forward to know what y'all are thinking.

                        As soon as Louis leaves the orphanage, his phone starts beeping with thousands of messages and missed calls from Harry, but he’s so overwhelmed by everything that’s just happened that he doesn’t have it in him to call his boyfriend back. It’s not a conscious decision, it’s not like he’s angry with Harry for having forgotten to say “good luck” this morning, it’s just… He’s emotionally dry, he’s tired and he needs a drink.

                        Louis has many acquaintances, so he calls some of them, hoping they’ll be in town to get a drink at five thirty pm in the middle of the week. They’re not – at least not the ones he’d like to go with anyway, so he ends up walking to the GQ Magazine building. Maybe Liam will be there and tell him he can leave work early.

                        It’s funny, because as soon as he gets up his floor, people are already staring.

                        “Good afternoon, mister Tomlinson”, the red headed from the front desk says with a grin bigger than her face. “Are you here for a shooting? Or an interview?” She asks a bit uncertain, already looking through her notes on her iPad trying to see if she’s missed something important.

                        “Oh, no, no”, he assures her, “I was hoping to find Liam... Is he here?” He asks with a trained smile on his face. Louis doesn’t feel much like smiling right now.

                        “Liam Payne?” She asks in disbelief and he nods. “Sure, he- he’s in his room, I’ll call him.”

                        “Can’t I go there?”

                        “Yes?” She answers-asks.

                        “Love, it’s okay if I can’t, I just wanna talk to my friend.” Ish. Kind of. Zayn trusts him, so.

                        “You’re friends? Liam’s friends with Harry Styles and you? I swear to God, why don’t we all get that lucky?” She laughs and gets up, “sorry, sorry… If you could come with me”, the girl smiles politely guiding him through the hall.

                        “Well, me and Harry _are_ dating so we’re bound to have friends in common… Liam’s a great lad”, Louis says and it’s totally _not_ an excuse to mention Harry.

“So it’s true then? You’re dating Harry Styles?” She turns excited. “Sorry, none of my business.”

            Louis laughs.

            “I am, yeah…”

            “There were rumors that you hated each other…” She comments.

            “Don’t know where that came from”, Louis replies faking outrage and smirking to himself.

            She stops in front of a glass door and points inside. Liam is there and so is an older guy that Louis recognizes being the editor in chief. He doesn’t really recall his full name, it’s Dylan something, he’s sure… He also has no time to figure it out when the girl opens the door and clears her throat, kind of already fearing her boss – he can see it in her eyes.

            “Excuse me sir-”, she says, “hm, Louis Tomlinson is here.”

            “Louis-” the man turns around. “Louis Tomlinson!” he exclaims like that’s the biggest surprise he’s had all year. Maybe it is. Louis sometimes forgets of how big his name is in this country. “Thank you, Mia”, he says as he clearly sends her away.

            “Thank you”, Louis smiles at the girl and she leaves quickly. “Hello”, he turns to them and Liam gets up as well, smiling. He’s about to say something when-

            “I’m Dylan Jones, editor in chief”, he says and reaches out to shake Louis’ hand; he politely does the same and says _hi_. “To what do we owe the pleasure of having you in our building, mr Tomlinson?” He asks.

            “Louis, please”, he says first of all. “I was actually coming to try and kidnap Liam, if that’s all right?”

            “Liam- Liam?” He frowns.

            “Hi, Lou”, Liam smiles again.

            “Liam”, Louis says. “See, I need a friend right now.”

            “You never told us that you’re friends with Louis Tomlinson as well”, Dylan turns to Liam with an accusatory look.

            “I’m sorry, sir, I didn’t know my personal relationships affected my performance at work… I’ll keep in mind to write you a list.” And- Liam, the little shit. Louis would have never guessed. Maybe Zayn has corrupted him already, who knows.

            “It- it doesn’t, Liam, but- anyway, I think that if you’ve finished your work here, you should go with mr Tom- Louis.” What else could he say right now?!

            “That would be awesome—tell me you’ve finished everything, Li”, Louis pleads.

            “I have”, he says seriously. “Thank you, sir”, Liam turns to Dylan and then he just nods and walks away.

            Louis waits for him to turn off his computer and put some papers together. He also writes things on post-its and glues them to his glass table and then finally says “we can go, Tommo”, and leaves his room, passing by his friend’s office to say he’s leaving early, but he’ll be there first thing tomorrow so they can finish the sport’s spread. The guy almost breaks his neck trying to see if Louis is really _the_ Louis Tomlinson, like someone had whispered barely a minute ago.

            “I feel like I’m a celebrity walking with you around here”, Liam laughs as they wait for the lifts.

            “Honestly, don’t they have work to do?”

            “They do- they’re also probably trying to understand why the hell I never came up with a Tomlinson exclusive in a staff meeting”, he laughs it off as they make their way downstairs.

            “Why haven’t you?” Louis asks curiously.

            “I met Harry when he offered me an interview just because he has the biggest heart in the world, right?” Louis nods. “But I met you and Zayn under friendship circumstances, I’d never- like, take advantage of that just because it’d look good at the magazine.”

            “You’re too good, Liam, I swear to God”, Louis rolls his eyes and laughs. “If you want one, I’ll give it to you- there’s—there’s something about to happen in my life and, like, it’s gonna go public and end up in gossip magazines and websites and- if you’d like to present it at a staff meeting, I’d be okay with GQ being the magazine to release it into the world.”

            “I- you don’t need to, Louis, but, of course, yeah, I’d love that… They’d love that”, Liam laughs too. They’ve just stepped into the sidewalk and Louis stops to look for a pub nearby where they can sit and get drunk together. Or maybe he’ll get drunk and ask Liam to take him home afterwards.

            Louis says “no problem, man”, and just keeps walking, knowing the journalist is following him until they’re seated on a booth in the corner of this small pub Louis has never heard of, but looks cozy and private.

            “You okay, Louis?” Liam asks with a frown as soon as they get their pints.

            “Why d’you ask?” He returns with a question after he takes a long sip of his beer.

            “Your eyes are red… So you’ve either been smoking pot or crying...” Liam guesses.

            “Unfortunately, not the first”, Louis says.

            “Something up with you and Harry? Zayn said you were doing so good, and that day we met- I hope it wasn’t-”

            “Me and Harry are perfect, yeah-”, he tells him. “It’s- I can’t say anything right now, and I’m sorry to put you in this position, I just. I need to drink, yeah? A few pints, a few shots, and just clear my head. Is that- is that okay?”

            “Is this because neither Zayn or Harry are here?” Liam smirks.

            “Pretty much, yeah- I’m sorry, I just- I don’t have many friends.”

            “You’re Louis Tomlinson.”

            “A thousand acquaintances doesn’t mean I trust them all.”

            “I’m glad you showed up then, tell you what, you saved me from some misery going on there…” He laughs.

            Louis finds out tonight that Liam is a great person and a great company. He doesn’t press Louis for details, he doesn’t ask him every five minutes if he’s sure he’s okay and most importantly, he doesn’t control how much alcohol Louis drinks, just turns down a few shots cause _one of us has to be up with no hangover tomorrow_. He can see why Zayn likes him so much, and he even sends his best friend a snapchat with the guy saying they’re having a great time without him.

            **Asshole** , Zayn replies and then: **stop corrupting my boy, I’ve done enough already**.

            “His boy, hm?” Louis smirks pocketing his phone and looking at Liam, who’s redder than a tomato.

            Harry keeps calling and texting.

            “Li, can you send H a text telling him that I’m drinking a lot right now being my usual in-denial-self and that I’ll call him back first thing in the morning?” Louis asks him.

            “Sure, Lou”, Liam replies kindly already taking his phone from his pocket. “What’s next?” He then asks eyeing the bar.

            “Rum”, Louis decides. “And then sleep”, he says and smiles. He’s ready to go home, he thinks.

 

-

 

            True to his word, Louis calls Harry first thing in the morning – it’s not like he wants to talk about everything that happened the day before, but he knows he needs it. Louis has lived his entire life compartmentalizing feelings and suppressing them to the point of no returning and no remembering, and it’s never done anything but keep him numb this entire time.

            He completely forgets about the time zone and is about to hang up as soon as he hears _hello_ from the other side of the phone.

            “Forgot it’s really early there…  I’m sorry”, he says, voice still hoarse, because he’s just woken up; he hasn’t even left the bed yet.

            “ _I haven’t slept, Lou_ ”, Harry tells him softly.  “ _I’m sorry I got pissed the day before yesterday and didn’t talk to you properly…_ ”

            “’S fine, H”, he brushes it off; he doesn’t need added drama right now.

            “ _It’s not, but. Yeah. How was it?_ ” He asks then.

            Louis once heard that most people are not interested in what you have to say, they’re more like curious, eager for information. And sometimes, not even that. Sometimes people only ask to be polite. Not Harry.

            If there’s one thing Louis has always noticed about the model, even when he hated him or even _before that_ , when they met, is that Harry is _always_ interested. He doesn’t ask if he doesn’t want to know, and when he’s talking to you, he makes you feel like you’re the most important person and whatever you’re saying is all he wants to talk about as well. And it’s genuine. And it’s beautiful. And Louis loves him. He loves him enough to tell the truth, to come out of his shell, to let Harry help him get through this.

            “Hard”, he says firstly. “Lottie hates me”, he then lets it out. “She- she used to love me, H and now… I mean, she’s _right_ to hate me, but.”

            “ _She doesn’t hate you, Lou; nobody could hate you. I bet you she’s just missed you a lot and- she’s hurt_.”

            “No. She hates me”, Louis insists. He could see the difference between her and Fizzy. The latter was hurt, but still willing. Lottie was… Something else. “But she agreed to let me help her once she’s out and Fizz wants to come as well…”

            “ _How_ was _it?”_ Harry asks again. He wants details. Louis can do details, okay.

            “They know who I am, for starters”, he shrugs. “They know I’m a model, and famous and rich and that I have a boyfriend—they actually quite like you”, Louis laughs weakly. “They don’t understand why _she_ left. Well, I don’t either, we bonded over that. There was a lot of crying. Lottie also screamed at me, and she reminded me _so much_ of… Of her”, he’s not gonna cry again. He’s _not_. “It was hard, not saying it, but I know she’d hurt too much if I said that, so I just- like, kept it to myself.”

            Harry encourages him to continue. Louis wanted to be doing this in person, he wanted to be in his arms and he wanted Harry’s fingers running through his hair. Now he can only hug the covers and bury his face in the pillow and pretend he’s right here and his bed isn’t too cold, even in the summer.

            “I explained to them the legal stuff… I told Félicité I didn’t want her to stay there alone, that it was never my intention for them to be alone for so long and that I was- that I was weak and immature, because _I was, Harry_ -” he says right before he’s interrupted again. “I was and now I’m not and I’m doing my best, so, yeah. They agreed on meeting me again on Friday, and the lawyer as well… It’s gonna take a month, I guess, but… But I’m hopeful that before Lottie’s eighteenth birthday they can be out.”

            _“And live with you?”_

            “And live with me- if they want. I guess Lot’s gonna wanna go to uni… She said she wants to study fashion…” He chuckles. “I suppose she’ll want to live in the dorms-”

            “ _To have a proper uni experience_ ”, Harry offers and Louis can hear the smile in his voice.

            “To stay away from me, more likely.”

            “ _She’s accepting help, Lou, that’s good…”_ Harry says _. “If she’s that hurt but still, like, accepting help… There’s still a lot to be saved_.”

            “Or she’s just using me for my money and doesn’t give a crap.”

            “ _Louis!_ ” Harry scolds. “ _She’s your sister, for fuck’s sake, stop being so pessimist, God_ ”, he finishes. He’s a bit angry.

            “I’m being realistic, Hazza… There might be something to save with Fizzy, but…”

            “ _But nothing_ ”, he cuts him off. “ _You’ve barely started and you’re already giving up. And you’re not even doing it for her, you’re doing it for you, because you’re so self-sabotaging. Honestly_ ”, Harry snorts.

            “I don’t-”, Louis starts, “I don’t know how to be different.”

            “ _Lou…_ ”

            “I hate admitting I need people, but I’m really gonna need you.”

            “ _I’m here- I. I’m flying there as soon as possible, yeah? You need me more than Niall does anyway_ …”

            “Good”, Louis whispers.

            “ _Hey, Lou?”_

            “Hm?”

            “ _Has anyone ever told you ‘it’s gonna be all right’?_ ” Harry asks, already knowing the answer, which is…

            “No.”

            “ _Well. It is. It’s gonna be all right. I promise._ ” And Louis does not cry. Nope. His pillow’s only a bit wet because he was drooling over night.

            “Yeah?”

            “ _Yeah._ ”

            “Thank you”, he breathes out. “Get some sleep, love.”

            “ _I’ll try and catch a flight tonight yeah? See you first thing in the morning tomorrow._ ”

            “Okay. Thanks, H. Love you.”

            “ _Love you too_.”

           

            He gets up and fetches himself a cuppa, opening a group message with Zayn and Stan to fill them in as well. And then he calls Simon, and then Roger, the lawyer. It’s not gonna be easy – not emotionally –, but Roger assures him that by August everything will be sorted out. His friends are supportive and Stan promises to be there to have dinner tonight, and as much as Louis tells him he doesn’t need to cause he has a match the next day and can’t miss early practice, Stan just tells him _Manchester United can wait_.

 

            **See, Zayn, this is what a friend does** , he texts him.

 

            **Sorry I can’t run away from forty thousand people, mate** , he jokes back. Right. Tour. Maybe Louis can join him for a few concerts since there’s not much to do. Which…

            There’s not much to do. With everything that’s been going on, Louis hasn’t been to any of the Modest’s office in a long while and hasn’t met Eleanor properly for weeks – this has never ever happened.

            For the first time then he realizes why he is who he is now.

            Louis is a worldwide known model, a respected one. He’s a millionaire, he’s got connections and possessions and- and the minute he starts having _love_ and searching for _family_ , his career goes to the background. He hasn’t even thought about it, even though Harry’s a constant reminder that he should be on the move.

            And it’s not like he regrets it. He’s thankful for the life he has. But now, thinking about it, Louis wishes he could focus on something else. He wants to work on his relationship and he wants to reconnect with his sisters and… How is Fizzy gonna live with him if he’s traveling like crazy to shoot commercials and advertise brands?

            Also, for the first time, Louis thinks about not taking part in the next Fashion Week. He’s received a few emails already – most of them from _Nick_ – asking about what brands have been approaching him – which he doesn’t know because he still needs to talk to El –, and the truth is, he hopes there aren’t many.

            It’s not that he regrets his career. He loves it. He just loves other things right now. _People_.

 

            **Where r u?** , he texts Eleanor right before lunchtime.

            **Modest** , comes the reply.

            **Can we meet after lunch?**

 **Come up to the office, ‘m discussing some news with your PR team**.

            Louis texts “ _ok_ ” back and goes for a shower. He gets ready, grabs something to eat, texts Liam thanking him for the night before and for putting him on a cab and drives to the Modest’s London office. He hopes she has good news.

 

            “Hello, stranger”, one of the female models smiles at him as soon as he enters the lobby. He’s _seen_ her, yes. Does he know her name? Nope.

            “Hey”, he smiles. “Is El ‘round here?”

            “Conference room…” She tells him.

            “Kay, thanks…” And walks straight ahead, not stopping to socialize with the others, mostly because he doesn’t feel like it.

 

            As it turns out, Louis gets the Tom Ford campaign. He also gets a proposition from _Adidas_ to sign exclusively with them. He doesn’t know what Eleanor’s been doing this entire time he hasn’t talked to her, but it sure is magic. He would kiss her if he could – or _wanted_ to. Ha.

            “Adidas wants you for fashion week’s time. Tom Ford’s next month”, she tells him excitedly.

            “It’s a one year contract? With Adidas?” He asks.

            “Three”, she bites her lips. “Fashion Week’s a test, I guess, and then… Yeah.”

            “Wow.”

            “Yeah.”

            And it’s a no-brainer, right? He’ll take both. Well. Probably. He needs to tell them about the press that’s about to come. He doesn’t know if _motherless Tomlinson reconnects with sisters who he abandoned for eight years_ will interfere in both contracts. Probably. Maybe.

 

            Definitely.

 

            Eleanor is about to have a stroke by the time he finishes the story. She calls up his PR team – that consists of three people, one of them he’s never ever met – and makes him repeat everything. He feels like a damn recorder when he finishes it again pretending it wasn’t hard at all to repeat everything and then asks them not to say a word until the papers are finalized and he can have his sisters back in his life.

            “I’m gonna call Tom Ford first…” She says already picking up her phone.

            “We’ll work this on your favor, yeah?” Ben, the guy who’s always profiled him and directed journalists his direction says.

            “Thank you” Louis smiles genuinely for what it seems like the first time since he got inside this building today. “I want to tell the story to GQ first…”

            “But there are bigger and better magazines to…”

            “I have a friend there”, he cuts the new girl off. “Liam’s a good journalist and a friend and—just make it work, yeah? Simon won’t complain.”

            “Sure, Louis”, Ben says.

            “Thank you”, he says again while he waits for Eleanor to finish her call with the Tom Ford rep.

            Keeping Harry’s words in his mind, he tries not to be a pessimist and just hopes (Louis is _hopeful_ , what has Harry done to him?!) that everything’s gonna work out this time.

 

-

 

            Harry really doesn’t like long trips, but he hates them even more when he’s eager to see his boyfriend, whom he loves and misses and needs him. Louis had been texting him non-stop about some possible Tom Ford and Adidas deal Eleanor got him before Harry got on the plane, but now he doesn’t have service and- ugh, he can’t wait to be in London.

            He grabs a book from his bag and focuses on finishing it during the next hours, but he falls asleep on the fifteenth page. Oh well. He tried.           It’s good that he’s slept, though, because time passed faster and when he blinks awake, Cameron – a new friend he made in LA who happens to be going to London as well – tells him they’re only forty minutes from landing.

           

            Heathrow is chaotic, and it’s seven thirty in the morning, so Harry’s not in the best of moods, especially because there are a bunch of paps waiting for him when he tries to hail a cab and make it home. He’s not usually _chased_ by them, but whenever they’re around, if it’s by chance or because Olivia called them, he can barely open his eyes because so many flashes blinding him.

            He says goodbye to Cameron as soon as he gets a car and promises to catch up soon, even though he suspects next time they’ll see each other will be by chance at a party, probably, he doesn’t know nor does he care much. All he cares about at the moment, if he’s being perfectly honest, is getting home, which…

            Since when does Harry think about Louis’ flat as “home”? he questions himself. Because truth be told, even though he pays rent with Niall in California, he catches himself saying “Niall’s place” whenever talking to a friend in common; not because his best friend makes it feel weird, because it’s great, but just because somehow, Harry’s more comfortable with Louis now. Maybe, and it’s a wild theory, you see… But maybe it isn’t Louis’ _flat_ that Harry thinks about as “home”, maybe it’s _Louis_ himself.

            For far too long now Harry hasn’t had any reference of what a proper house feels like. Probably since his mother died, if he’s being perfectly honest, since living with his father had always been as awkward as it could possibly get. For far too long now Harry hasn’t quite realized it. Until he’s turning on the corner of Louis’ street and sees his building. And Harry calls him, wakes him up and asks if he can _please buzz him up_ , because he’s arriving.

            It isn’t until he’s hugging Louis by the door that he knows for sure he’s arrived home, after many, many years.

 

            “Is it too cheesy if I say I missed you like crazy this week?” Louis asks with his face buried in Harry’s chest, which tightens and expands at the same time.

            “Missed you too, love”, he says and kisses his head. “C’mon, let’s go to bed and get some more sleep. Plane ride was a bitch.” He complains and follows Louis to his bedroom, leaving his suitcase in the living room and taking off his clothes, getting under the covers with Louis’ arms around his waist and mouth close enough to his neck so he can kiss it between words.

            “How long are you staying?” Louis asks in a low voice. The room is still dark thanks to the curtains and they’re both really sleepy. It feels wrong to disturb the moment.

            “Have to be in Germany in a couple of weeks, according to Olivia. Got nothing to do till then”, he replies easily.

            “Gonna shoot for Tom Ford in New York next month”, Louis says.  

            “You really got it?” Harry’s smile grows.

            “I really did” and he can hear in Louis’ voice that he has an equally big grin on his face. Both of them know how important it is to get a Tom Ford campaign. “But it’s only at the end of August, so- I’ll be here for Lottie’s birthday and then Fizzy’s. Did I tell you her birthday is in August too?”

            “No”, Harry says.

            “Yeah…” He pauses and then… “Will you stay here?” Louis asks, voice even lower than before. “Until you have to fly to Germany, will you- I mean, would you _like_ to stay here?”

            “Are you sure you’re not gonna get sick of me?” He turns around in bed and faces Louis, placing a hand on his face and caressing his jaw with his thumb and a stupid, _stupid_ smile on his face.

            “I’ll kick you out if I do”, his boyfriend replies nonchalantly and Harry kicks him under the covers, making Louis laugh and press his lips to Harry’s quickly. “No, I- I want you here.” _For more than two weeks_ hangs in the air, but Harry catches it, because he wants to stay for a long time as well.

            “Okay”, he says and closes his eyes. Louis scoots closer and rests his head on Harry’s chest. They fall asleep right after their breaths are in sync.

 

            Harry wakes up at ten thirty to the smell of bacon and pancakes, but before he makes it to the kitchen he really needs to go to the bathroom and go through his morning ritual, which involves a shower, because Harry dislikes few things in life like he dislikes smelling like airplanes.

            He finds Louis with his cellphone between his shoulder and face and both hands occupied in the sink, so he decides to help him and take it off his hands, kissing his forehead and whispering _good morning_ so he can go and finish his call. He comes back with an uncertain smile on his face that turns into a genuine one when he kisses Harry.

            “You made me breakfast”, Harry smiles and kisses his nose just because he can.

            “We should eat, I’m starving”, Louis replies and kisses him again before moving to get two plates.

            “Everything okay?”

            “Yeah, hm. It was Roger on the phone, he wants me to go to the orphanage this afternoon so I can talk to the girls about getting blood samples to start the process of, you know, getting them out.”

            “Blood samples?” Harry asks putting a piece of the eggs benedict in his mouth humming _hmm, this is really good, love._

“Thanks”, Louis smiles sheepishly. “And- yeah. We gotta prove we’re blood-related so I can plea and take them outta there.”

            “Oh, that makes sense”, he says. Harry doesn’t want to cross any lines here, but Louis is terrible at _asking_ for things because he always feels like he’s bothering, so Harry offers. “D’you want me to go with you? To talk to the girls?” He asks as the other model raises his eyes. “I don’t need to meet them”, he amends. “I can just sit outside for- moral support, maybe.”

            “You’d do that?” And his eyes are hopeful, like that hadn’t crossed his mind, like Harry hadn’t already told him that he’d be by his side _through the whole process_. “Yes. Please. Thank you. And I’d love for you to meet them, actually.”

            “You don’t think it’s too early?” Harry asks.

            “You don’t think I’ve waited too bloody long already?”

            And yeah, he has a point.

 

            That’s how Harry ends up sat across from two beautiful girls – one blond, one brunette, both with extremely blue eyes, Louis’ eyes. It should’ve been more awkward than it actually is, but somehow he just… Likes them for them, not because they’re his boyfriend’s sisters.

            “Are any of you scared of needles?” He asks them as Louis watches their conversation.

            “Not really”, Lottie answers and Fizzy only nods agreeing with her.

            “Well, I am.”

            “It’s good you don’t have to go through this then”, Lottie, again, is the one to talk.

            “I suppose”, he shrugs. Harry knows she’s talking about more than just the blood test thingy.

            “Harry’s been through a lot too, actually”, Louis says and changes his position on the couch.

            “Did you bond over how broken you both are then?” She throws it at her brother trying to hurt him. Harry places a hand on this thigh as if he’s asking him _please do not fight fire with fire and let me answer._ Louis does.

            “We did, actually”, he smiles. “We can bond over it as well, if you want”, he tells her, “although I’d like more if we could bond over happy things, say- Louis tells me you wanna study fashion?”

            Charlotte nods.

            “She likes sewing…” Fizzy offers. “She was always cutting and mending again the clothes we got.”

            “Really?” Louis asks interested.

            “Yeah”, she continues. “When we grew out of our clothes they’d usually give them to the smaller kids, because they were really good clothes- thanks for that, I guess”, Félicité remembers to say, “and Lottie would always style most of them so they’d look properly- new.”

            “That’s amazing, Lots”, he says. Harry can see the wonder in his eyes.

            “Thanks”, she replies bashfully.

            So the conversation continues. And then Roger comes in and starts talking about law, in which point Harry excuses himself from the room saying he needs to make a few calls, because he doesn’t want his presence to interfere in whatever the girls decide.

            They like him, he can tell. He’s happy he made it easier for Louis to talk to them, but he’s not their brother and it’s totally not his call whether Fizzy accepts to live with Louis or not, neither is telling Lottie she should take a semester to decide to which uni she wants to go first and spend some time bonding with her brother – even though he can, well, talk her into it. Maybe a bit. Yeah.

 

            Harry is glad when Louis comes out of the room with a small smile on his face.

            “Fizzy’s actually excited about living with me”, he says then. “Lot’s more- hm, polite? Guess that’s thanks to you.”

            And Harry hugs him, because, really, Louis Tomlinson wasn’t made to appear unsure of himself. He is confidence in legs. Amazing legs.

            “That’s great, isn’t it?” He asks in his ear.

            “It’s awesome, yes.”

            “ _God, you’re sickeningly cute”_ , Charlotte says from the door; she has a smile on her face despite the harshness on her voice. “I- hm, wanted to talk to you without Fizzy?”

            “Okay…” Louis says and Harry makes it to leave again.

            “You can stay”, she says quickly. So they approach. “I’m- I’m hurt, yeah?” She starts and Louis nods. Harry has his hand on the small of his back for reassurance. “And I don’t like you, Louis. Like, I really, really don’t like you.”

            “Lots-”

            “But I realized that I only don’t like you because I don’t _know_ you anymore”, she quickly says so he can’t quite interrupt her. “The Louis I used to know… I worshiped him. And he vanished. And I only got to see glimpses of him throughout the years, even though he appeared to want nothing to do with me”, she shrugs. “But- but Fizzy believes the one we loved is still in there and—and if there’s any chance he is, I guess I can love him- _you_ again.”

            By the end, Louis is crying a bit, and he pulls her in for a hug, thanking her for even giving him the chance.

 

            When they leave the orphanage, they have lunch with Roger and decide to go to the mall and maybe watch a movie, just so they can wind down from this rollercoaster of emotions that this afternoon has been.

            At home later at night, Louis is playing videogame and yelling at Niall who is on the other side of the ocean playing against him while Harry cooks some pasta. They talk about their day over dinner, like they’re completely normal people – like they aren’t extremely famous, like they don’t have a weird history, like their backgrounds aren’t as complicated as hell.

            For the first time, though, Harry sees that Louis believes everything will turn out all right and he thinks that one day, not far from now, he’ll sit alone with Lottie and tell her the incredible story of how one day he thought he hated Louis too, and how they didn’t get on at all, and how now, everything that he used to say he despised, he loves, and how he can’t imagine his life without him, and how scary it is – to love someone that much. He’ll also tell her that he doesn’t think Louis will go anywhere, not away from him, definitely not away from her and Fizzy.

 

            “What are you thinking?” Louis asks when Harry finishes with the dishes, hugging him from behind and pressing a kiss in the juncture of his neck and shoulder.

            “That I’m exhausted”, Harry says resting his weight back on Louis. “But that I still really want you to fuck me”, he chuckles.

            “Babe, you have bags under your eyes”, Louis says worriedly.

            “So do you”, Harry shrugs. “Does it mean you’re not up for it?”  He raises a brow.

            “Oh, I am up for it”, Louis smirks and presses his crotch to Harry’s ass.

            They end up having sex on the living room carpet, and when they make it to the bed, after a quick shower, Harry’s eyes can barely stay open when Louis tells him he loves him, and he makes a mental note to give him a great wake up call to compensate.

 

-

 

            It’s eight thirty and Louis is squirming in the sheets while Harry works his tongue inside him, loosening him up just so he can insert to fingers and make him come. Harry’s mind goes back to their first hook up, a late night in the middle of 2014. They certainly have come a long way.

            Louis is still shaking when he says:

            “What have I done to deserve you?” With a smile on his face.

            “Oh, Louis, I was just returning a favor from long ago…” Harry only jokes, because he knows that despite his memory, what they have now is _nothing_ like it was or what it could have been two years ago.

            None of them have anywhere to be, but even if they did, Harry knows they’d still choose to be with each other this time around.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unfortunately, I'm not sure if I'll be able to post the last (!!!) chapter next week cause I'm traveling tomorrow... I promise I'll try to write it whenever I get alone time, but I'm not sure. 
> 
> I'd love if you said hi on **[twitter](https://twitter.com/ifmelcouldfly/with_replies)**. Hope to see you :*


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I’ve waited a hundred years  
> But I’d wait a million more for you  
> Nothing prepared me for  
> What the privilege of being yours would do (...)
> 
> I surrender who I’ve been for who you are  
> For nothing makes me stronger than your fragile heart."
> 
> Turning Page, Sleeping At Last

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CAN YOU BELIEVE IT'S FINALLY HERE? I sure as hell can't. I'm sorry it took me so long, and THANK YOU for still being here.
> 
> There's so much shit happening in this fandom and instead of giving me the push I needed to finish the story it just made me sit and stare at my computer screen for hours on end, because... What the actual fuck? Honestly. This is all so sick and twisted.
> 
> ANYWAY, here it is, the final chapter.  
> Hope it isn't disappointing <3

            Louis is in his fourth suit when the call comes. He’s been in New York for three days now shooting the Tom Ford campaign and with the Adidas deal coming out better than expected – given that Eleanor worked her ass off so his private issues wouldn’t affect his contract –, Louis decided he’d give everything he could to go out of the market (for now) with a bang.

            Somebody’s just finished his hair for the tenth time today when Eleanor comes with a contained expression on her face and Louis’ cellphone in hands.

            “Everything okay?” He asks.

            “You better take this.” Is all she says.

            “Is that Harry? Is he okay?” Harry hasn’t been feeling good for a few days now, due to food poisoning in China, where he went right after Germany.

            “Not Harry.”

            Okay.

            “Hello”, he said trying his best not to move when make-up came to give him the final touches for the last pictures of the day.

            _“Lou?_ ” A familiar voice speaks.

            “Fiz, hey, everything all right?” Louis asks trying not to sound too worried ignoring Eleanor’s big staring eyes.

            “ _Yeah… Me and Lottie are just wondering when you’re coming back to London…?_ ”

            “Hm… Tomorrow, I think, why?”

            _“Because we want to go home- or, you know…”_

What?

            Louis gasps.

            “Fizzy, what are you saying?” Louis wants to sit, he really does, but he can’t quite move.

            _“Monika said we can go whenever we want… She was going to call you, but- I wanted to tell you.”_ She sounds careful, almost like she’s scared Louis has given up on the idea of them living with him.

            “Are you serious?” He doesn’t even bother to try and contain the high pitch in his voice and the way his smile spreads on his face. “I- I’m gonna try and catch a flight tonight then”, he says eyeing Eleanor and waiting for her to object; she doesn’t. “I’ll get you guys out first thing tomorrow”, Jesus, he wants to jump. He kind of does and hugs El at the same time.

            _“Thanks, Lou.”_

            “Is- is Lottie excited?” He asks.

            _“Low-key excited”,_ Fizzy snorts. _“She’ll come around… She’s trying to appear tougher than she really is.”_

            _Yeah, we got that in common_ , he thinks. “I hope so”, is what he says. “Look, I- I gotta go, but be ready by tomorrow morning yeah? ‘S time to come home.”

            _“See you tomorrow, bro.”_ He _doesn’t_ squeak. Nope.

 

            For the rest of the shooting both Louis and the photographer struggle with the shots, but just because Louis can’t stop grinning and they need serious, sexy pictures.

            At night, he spends almost two hours on skype with Harry talking about all of the things he wants to do with the girls until he has to start preparing for the next Fashion Week, where he’ll debut as Adidas’ new model, and Harry – who has already shot and filmed everything YSL needs for now – promises he’ll be there if Louis needs him to.

            And the thing is: he does. Louis doesn’t know when exactly or how it happened, but it’s been a while now since he’s accepted how much Harry’s important to him. He’s his boyfriend and he does love him as such, but more than that, Louis just really loves him as a person – as everything he can in every way there is to love someone.

            He feels like it was fast, though. Yes, he’s seen people fall in love way quicker than he and Harry did, but when Harry offered to be with Louis and his sisters the next few weeks, Louis realized it hadn’t even occurred to him to do any of that _without_ Harry. And that’s weird, isn’t it? To just include your boyfriend of a few months in your family activities for however long it lasts?

            Louis’ mind tells him he should be scared of how big his feelings have gotten, but he’s never been good at listening to reason, so it’s not now, that he is happier than he imagined he could ever get, that he’ll start to.

            “I don’t like being away from you”, he then confesses when they’ve already exhausted the _sisters_ ’ topic. “And I hate that I’ve become one of those co-dependent people.” He laughs. Harry’s expression softens immediately.

            _“I could’ve gone to LA”_ , is what he says. _“But then I thought you’d come to London right after you finished with Tom Ford and I just flew in from China…”_

            “Doesn’t Niall miss you?” Louis asks jokingly.

            _“He does, actually… Says I haven’t been home in forever; guess he’s right”_ , he chuckles, _“I was at yours, then traveled for work and came back here…”_

            “You at a hotel?” Harry nods. “I could’ve left a key with you- I should have, sorry, babe.”

            _“No, Lou, it’s okay”_ , he smiles. _“Thank you, though. I’m actually- hm, thinking about heading to Manchester in the morning? Give you time to pick your sisters up and help them get settled at the flat... And I- I’ll see my dad, yeah? Be back at night, for dinner, if you’ll have me.”_

            “Course we’ll have you”, he doesn’t know if his face can get any softer. “I- I thought you and your dad weren’t in speaking terms?” Louis then asks a bit uncertain.

            _“We check in with each other every other month? Like, to know the other is alive… I suppose it’s easier for him cause he sees me in the media, I just- My mom’s dead, Lou”_ , he speaks lowly. _“And the only people I have right now are you and Ni…”_ Louis wants to stop him right there and say that he has many more people who will be there for him (starting with Zayn and Liam, going till Olivia), but he doesn’t think it’s right to stop him right now. _“… And I encouraged you to go and get your family back, so I just- I mean, it won’t do any harm if I try and have lunch with him, right? It’s not like he hates me or anything, just- just_ what _I am.”_

            “ _Who_ you are, babe”, Louis corrects. “And no, it won’t hurt to try yeah? But if it does, we’ll be waiting for you to have dinner and I’ll cuddle the fuck outta you at night.”

            _“Just cuddle?”_ He smirks and Louis laughs along. He loves this boy.

            “Good luck, yeah?” He smiles.

            _“You too”_ , Harry says. “ _Hope the paparazzi don’t follow you. When’s the piece coming anyway?”_ His boyfriend asks referring to the interview Louis gave Liam before heading to the US.

            Liam was very professional throughout the entire thing, and then they wrapped up, he got up and enveloped Louis in one of the tightest hugs he’d ever received, and right then Louis decided that he was really happy Zayn had wanted to keep him around.

            “Liam says he’s waiting for Simon’s permission”, Louis tells him. “I think he was waiting for me to shoot this campaign and sign with Adidas… Which- both have happened.”

            “ _Congratulatory blowjob’s in order”_ , Harry smiles and yawns right after.

            “I hope so”, Louis laughs. “Hey, baby, get some sleep.”

            _“I will- just a nap and hit the road early.”_

            “Okay”, he says, “I’m heading to the airport in a couple of hours. See you tomorrow, then?”

            “ _See you tomorrow”_ , Harry smiles again, dimples in display. _“Good luck.”_

            “To you too, love.”

           

-

 

            Harry doesn’t actually sleep so nervous he is, partly for Louis, partly for himself. He tosses and turns on the hotel bed and gets a few minutes of peace, but when it’s seven thirty am he gives up on sleep completely and takes a shower, texting his dad telling him he’s on his way to have lunch with him and doesn’t check his phone again until he’s twenty minutes outside Manchester.

            The ride is calm and he sings along with the radio, enjoying whatever is playing. He only stops once to get some water and use a restroom, and takes a few pictures with some people that recognize him – it doesn’t happen often when he’s alone (Harry’s experienced serious pandemonium going out with Louis and Zayn already) so it’s still a bit overwhelming when girls and boys come up to him claiming to be fans.

            (It’s strange for him, the concept that some people even _idolize_ him – he doesn’t _understand_ what he does that is so special that they take interest in his personal life and his babbling on twitter, but he’s very thankful for it nonetheless, and he hopes that one day he can actually give back to the ones who need help.)

            He’s approaching his old street – where his father still lives – when Zayn’s new song starts playing. He waits for it to end – singing along like he did with the other songs – and then finally gets ready to go inside. At this time, Louis has probably arrived in London and is on his way to pick up the girls; he sends him another good luck text and pockets his phone again right before ringing the bell.

            “H?” He hears his father’s voice from the other side of the door.

            “Yes”, he answers and it opens.

            “What happened to your key?” He asks as soon as he sees Harry.

            “Lost”, he shrugs. He actually tossed them away when he left home – like a ritual of passage of sorts. “Hi, dad.”

            “Come in, come in. _Jesus_ , you’re big””, Des says giving Harry a onceover after closing the door behind them. “The pictures do not do you justice.”

            “Uhn- yeah”, Harry nods not really knowing what to say. Apparently his father _does_ follow his career.

            “I made fajitas, if that’s okay?” Des talks as he gestures for Harry to follow him into the kitchen. “I mean, do you still eat it? Or are you on an only-salad kinda diet? Shit, I should’ve asked.”

            “It’s okay, dad, I eat everything”, he laughs. “Well, not always, but I’ve just come back from China and will only start working again when Fashion Week’s around… Sorry, you don’t really want to hear all this yeah?” Harry asks self-consciously.

            “No, H, I- I do”, his father replies setting the table and Harry moves to help him. The house still looks exactly the same and it’s nice to see something so familiar after moving around so much. “Tell me about your job then. I saw you’re working exclusively now? But I don’t know what that means, I’m afraid.”

            They sit across from each other and serve themselves, keeping the conversation.

            “Yves Saint Laurent—it’s a brand, like, a really great one- been a fan of their designs since I started paying attention to what I was wearing-” he chuckles, remembering his seventeen year old self, “anyway, they wanted me after my first Fashion Week. And both my PA and my PR thought-”

            “PA, PR?” Des asks.

            “Personal assistant, and the PR guy is who handles my image and- like, everything related to it, like a rep.”

            “You have a personal assistant?” His eyes widen. “And someone to represent you?” Harry nods. “Phew.” Des whistles like he’s impressed.

            “Yeah, it’s pretty great”, he laughs. “Anyway, they thought it’d be a great idea and so did I, it was a dream actually, and Grimmy- he’s a friend, was actually who kind of discovered me? Yeah- he said it’d help establish my career. So Olivia, who is my PA, worked really hard so they’d wait until I finished a Dior contract in Bali—that also came with Fashion Week, and then I was in Paris, signing contracts and working exclusively for them, which means I can only model their clothes and wear them on major events.” Harry finally breathes. “And oh- they’re paying me a lot, and by a lot I mean _a lot a lot_.”

            “Wow”, his father answers. “Bali? Paris? And you mentioned China? Wow, H. You’re doing all right for yourself”, he laughs. “Does Niall go everywhere with you?”

            “No- when I left uni I used to pay for his tickets so he would visit me, whenever we found the time- I know it looks like it’s easy and, yeah, it’s easier than most jobs, but my schedule is still hectic…”

            “I don’t think it’s easy”, he interjects.

            “It’s okay if you do, I do too, sometimes”, he confesses. “But I- I love doing it. Anyway, Niall’s living in LA now- so am I, by the way. We met Zayn Malik and-”

            “The singer?” Harry nods. “He’s good. Very, very famous, right?”

            “Yes. He’s best friends with my- with Louis Tomlinson”, he chooses to say, “another model.”

            “Famous too”, he says and Harry nods.

            “And we me through Louis- and he met Niall through me… And _Niall_ met some people through him, and now he’s finishing his studies there and working for a music studio.”

            “I’m glad you could help him.”

            “Me too, even though I just introduced him to people”, he smiles.

            “So. Louis Tomlinson.” Des speaks and Harry takes another sip of his soda.

            “What about him?”

            “I do see things about you online, Harry.”

            “Okay”, he says.

            “You’re awfully close with him, aren’t you?” He asks with something that could be confused with a smile on his face, but Harry knows it isn’t.

            “Awfully isn’t a good word to use”, Harry decides to say. “But yes.”

            “Hm…”

            “Dad...”

            “I wish I could understand, Harry.” He vents.

            “It’s okay if you don’t”, he tells him.

            “It clearly isn’t, since we rarely speak and I hadn’t seen you in more than a year.” He says roughly.

            “There isn’t much I can do, is there?” Harry asks. He’s so tired of hearing the same thing since sixteen. “I respect that you don’t understand it, and I respect that you don’t like it, but I don’t need to have it shoved to my face, so- I’m sorry if I don’t want to see you often. It isn’t easy, okay? And anyway, it doesn’t matter”, Harry finishes weakly and excuses himself from the table.

            He _knew_ it’d end up like this. It’s a good reminder to why he hasn’t come here over the past fifteen months.

 

            There’s a picture of his mom on the coffee table in the living room and another one of the three of them around Christmas time when Harry was very little – he only knows because they’re all wearing those sickening Christmas sweaters. His eyes get a bit watery, but he doesn’t actually cry.

            Harry sits on the couch and unlocks his phone, seeing a text Louis has just sent. He’s in the flat and his sisters are with him. He’s hugging Félicité and Lottie is in the background, but has a smile on her face. Harry can’t wait to be with them. He receives another one where they’re pulling funny faces and chuckles at the screen, being interrupted by his father speaking.

            “Finished the dishes. And it does matter, H”, he hears Des coming into the living room. “You’re my son, of course it matters.”

            “Dad”, Harry rubs his face and looks at him, but doesn’t get up. “Let’s not fight, yeah? I just wanted to check up on you. You’re doing good, awesome. I am doing good too. Wanna watch a movie?” He asks as politely as he can.

            “Not really, no”, he says sitting by his side. “Wanna tell me about Louis?”

            Harry rolls his eyes and rests his head on the back of the couch.

            “No.”

            “Is he good to you?”

            “Yes.”

            “How long have you been together?’

            Harry thinks about it and laughs, “a long time”, he chooses to say. “But we became official in June.”

            “Are you in love?”

            “Dad”, Harry says, as calmly as he can. “You don’t need to try. We don’t have to talk about it. It’s fine.”

            “But I want to, Harry”, he says. “Your mom died!” He exclaims. “And when you left, I- I got lonely. And I’ve met someone, and I’d like to talk to you about her sometime, but- but for now I want to talk to you about _you_ and not go another year without seeing you. Can we do that? I mean, can we do that without ignoring the fact that you’re gay and has a boyfriend and- and I can try to understand? And even if I don’t, just- just tell me and I’ll try to wrap my mind around it?”

            Oh.

            “I am”, Harry says then. “In love, I mean”, he completes and Des even smiles a bit. “Not only in love but I- I _love_ him. And Louis isn’t good to me, dad, he’s- he’s the best thing that’s happened since Man U won that game against Liverpool and I smiled for the first time after mom died.” Harry explains. “When we met- I—I was actually catering an event for his, well, now our agency. That was when we first- hm, talked?” They both laugh.

            Harry’s glad Des is listening, but he’s not about to tell his father about another guy eating him out – no matter how mind-blowing it had been.

            “But I was kind of a dick to him”, he confesses, “the first night we- we _talked_. Then I became famous, and I became famous really fast, and I wanted to talk to him but we only saw each other a year later…”

            Harry laughs lightly and for a while lets his mind wander to that New Year’s Eve party and how _distant_ it seems. He’s lived an entire life these past few months- and Louis has been a part of it. He is so happy.

            “He hated me- absolutely loathed me, even though he now says it was sexual tens- sorry. He says he didn’t really hate me, just thought he did. We got tired of fighting. We talked. We fell in love.”

            “And you’re happy?”

            “Really happy.” He says.

            “I can see it in your eyes” his dad offers. “And it’s- your eyes actually shine when you talk about this guy and-”

            “Dad, don’t cry”, Harry rushes to say. He’d hug him, but he knows Des doesn’t like to be vulnerable, so he just sits closer and waits for him to say something else.

            “I was raised to just _know_ this is wrong, you know? And- and I raised you to be with a woman, get married, have kids… And you’re here telling me you love another _man_. The first time you told me you liked guys I almost had a heart attack you know?” He chuckles. “But now… _I can see it in your eyes, Harry_ ”, he repeats.

            “I can get married, dad”, he smiles. “And I want kids, loads of them if I can.” _If Louis wants it too_ , he thinks before he can even stop himself. It’s too early to have these kind of thoughts, isn’t it?

            “I know, I know, you people are full of rights now…” He waves his hands around.

            “You people”, Harry snorts, “ _really?_ ”

            “I’m sorry, I’m sorry”, he says. “Shit, see? That’s what I’m saying; I’m not used to- _dealing_ with this.”

            “There isn’t anything to _deal with_ , dad”, Harry explains exasperatedly. “It is what it is.”

            “Will I ever get to meet Louis?” He asks.

            “Talking like that, no, you won’t”, he warns. “Louis is like- really proud of who he is, and so am I, by the way… He’ll give you so much shit if you refer to us like _you people_ ”, he laughs. He can see Louis’ eyebrows reaching the ceiling disapprovingly if Des ever says things like that around him.

            “It’s not you it’s just-”

            “Our kind?” Harry questions ironically. “Dad, love is _equal_. There isn’t a formula to it, is there? Why did you fall for mom and not the other girl? Why did mom choose you when she probably had dozens of options?”

            “Okay, but it’s different, isn’t it?”

            _Jesus_.

            “Dad, you’ve watched porn, right?”

            “Har—”

            “We’re two adults, and I looked up my first porn video when I was twelve, so that was rhetorical question”, he laughs. “You’ve watched porn. So tell me, for crying out loud, why is it _awesome_ to watch two girls making out in a porn movie but if two guys do so much as hold hands walking down the street it’s the end of the world? Cause it’s hot for straight men?” He asks. “Let me tell you, there are women who kiss other women just for the sake of it, not for the camera. Is that okay with you? Probably not. It’s a _ridiculous_ world we live in, and we- we found love, against all odds, in each other. And some guys find that with girls, some find it with other guys… Some girls like guys, and some girls… Don’t. And that’s fine, you know?”

            “I don’t”, he shrugs. “But I- but if I’m willing to learn, would you be up to teaching me?” He asks. “Maybe you can tell this Louis guy I’m in a… Process? And he can educate me too? I just really want to see you more than once a year. And I really want to meet the person who makes your eyes shine so bright. If- if it’s okay with you. If you want that too.”

            “Dad-” Harry hugs him. And now he might be crying too. “You’ve got a lot to learn”, he laughs over his shoulder. “But I’m gonna teach you, yeah?” He then smiles. “And Louis will love to do the same once he finishes dealing with the shitload of press he’s about to get.”

            “What- why?”

            And then Harry tells him about Louis’ life. He tells him about his family, about his mom leaving, about him wanting to reconnect with his sisters and finally being able to do it.

            Eventually Des gets up to make some coffee and Harry bakes a cake, all that while talking. His father tells him about this woman he’s been seeing – for a long, long time now – and how she has two daughters and they both love him and almost had a stroke when they found out their mother was dating Harry Styles’s father.

            _You can imagine how disappointed they got when I told them we didn’t see each other much_ , he laughs when he says it, and Harry tells him that maybe somewhere further down the line he can come here and meet them, once he and Des are back on track.

            Little do they know, but come Christmas time and they’ll all be gathered around Louis’s dinner table in London, and it’ll feel like family, even if it’s still really the beginning of how great their relationship will be. But for now, they agree on lunch two weekends from today.

 

            It’s almost nine pm when Harry arrives in London – desperate for a shower and some food, so he hopes that even though Louis and his sisters have already had dinner (probably) there’s something left for him.

            Louis’ doorman smiles politely at him and says he’ll call Louis’ flat to say he’s coming up. Harry drags his suitcase into the lift and supports his body on the wall, so tired he is. Next time he goes to Manchester he’s sleeping there. He could’ve done it today, actually, but he really, really misses his boyfriend.

            The door’s already open when he exits the lift and as soon as he cheekily says _baby, I’m home_ he’s faced with the dinner table set, and everyone dressed up waiting for him.

            “Fucking finally, Harold! We’re all starving”, Louis says but comes almost running towards him. Harry hugs Louis for the first time in weeks and it’s like an explosion of happiness happens inside of him. “Hi, baby”, he then says privately in his ear.

            “Hi, love”, Harry smiles and kisses his cheek, and then pecks his mouth. “I’ve missed you.”

            “You too”, Louis says and lets go of him.          

            “What’s all this?” He then asks, leaving his things on the carpet and walking towards the girls. “Hi”, he smiles and they get up to greet him. “So, so good to see you here. It is a huge flat for one person.”

            “It is, isn’t it?” Fizzy asks. “I love it”, she smiles. “So glad you’re rich, Lou.”

            “Yeah, yeah,  I’m sure”, he laughs. “Seriously, though, it’s amazing that you’re all here”, he says and moves to sit, but looks straight into Harry’s eyes.

            “D’you know it’s our first day here and he made us work for him?” Lottie tells Harry after he kisses her on the cheek and sits by her side, across from Louis.

            “Really?” He drags the word.

            “I just asked for help, and you _wanted_ to, _because Harry’s so cool_ ”, Louis teases. “We cooked together, enjoy dinner.” He smiles.

            “So domestic and cute, I might have to instagram all of you.”

            “Us”, Fizzy says. “You can instagram all of us.”

            Then they start talking and Harry notices how Fizzy’s into this whole _my brother is famous_ thing, because she babbles about her friends not believing her when he started to appear in the magazines, and it’s funny. He promises her he’ll tag her on the picture so she gets many followers. Lottie rolls her eyes, but then asks to be tagged as well.

            It’s also great to watch how Lottie acts whenever Louis talks to her. She doesn’t seem pissed, just reserved. And Harry _knows_ it’s because Louis has been calling her nonstop after they first reconnected a little over a month ago and trying to rebuild their relationship and trust. Yes, there is a long way to go, but they’re on track, Harry can tell.

 

            “Did you decide where you want to study, Fiz?” Harry asks her when they’re having dessert in the living room.

            “Not yet, but Lou said we can go looking this week…”

            “We will”, he smiles. “Term’s about to start, but I’m sure I can get you into wherever you choose to go—and if I can’t, we bring Harry and he can flash a smile and get it for you.”

            “I don’t get things flashing smiles at people”, Harry interjects faking outrage.

            “You got me”, Louis shrugs.

            “Gonna throw up in my mouth”, Lottie says _fondly_.

            “Harry can come with us to see schools, if he’d like. One more opinion can’t hurt, right?” Félicité says. “I mean, if you’re not busy?” She kind of asks him.

            “I won’t be. But I also don’t want to meddle… It’s okay if you guys want to do it by yourselves.” He says kindly.

            Harry wants to be there and wants to help, but he doesn’t want to cross any lines. Even though it _feels_ like he and Louis have been together forever, it’s been actually little, little time.

            “She was inviting you, you knobhead”, Louis smacks him on the nape.

            “Auch”, Harry laughs and gets a kiss on the corner of his mouth. “I’d love to then”, he says. “What about you, Lottie?”

            “Was thinking about a gap year?” She says, “I don’t know, really.”

            “You can do whatever you want till you figure out what you want to do for real, Lots”, he watches Louis tell her.

            “I know- thanks”, she smiles.

            They keep talking for half an hour, Harry goes into the kitchen to load the dishwasher and when he comes back they’re discussing which film they should watch, but Charlotte yawns in the middle of the argument.

            “You’re knackered, aren’t you?” Harry asks.

            “Woke up really early”, she responds.   

            “We were nervous”, Fizzy helps her out.

            “We can have a raincheck, yeah?” Louis says, looking at all of them to see if they’re okay with it. “I think we all need a great night of sleep.”

            And everybody agrees. Harry is tired, yes, but he doesn’t feel like sleeping now – he needs to calm his mind a little, get out of the craziness of the day. He’s emotionally exhausted, but it isn’t sleep that’s gonna help him right now. They say goodnight to the girls and Harry tells Louis he’ll take a shower in his bathroom while he puts the dishes to dry.

            He takes his time in the shower, but avoids washing his hair – he’s too tired to blow-dry it and doesn’t want to sleep with it wet. He can wash it in the morning. Once he gets out, Louis is already in bed, typing on his phone, soft expression on his face.

            “Stan says hi”, Louis voices as soon as he sees Harry, who sits on the bed by his side.

            “Say hi back”, he smiles. “Wanna meet him.”

            “We can catch a game one of these days, what d’you think?” He asks and puts his phone on the bedside table, turning his body completely to Harry.

            “Definitely, yeah”, he smiles, “just gotta school myself so the fanboy won’t show”, he laughs lightly.

            “Oh, baby, ‘s gonna be so cute”, Louis gets up and straddles him, putting his arms around his neck and hugging him. “How was it with your dad?” He then asks, backing away and looking him in the eyes.

            Harry’s hands find Louis’ hips immediately, thumbs stroking circles on his hipbones. This kind of closeness makes him happy.

            “So good, Lou”, he smiles and drops his head to his boyfriend’s shoulder. “He wants to meet you”, he says and squeezes him.

            “Really?” Louis moves so they can lock eyes.

            “He said he wanted to- like, learn. About us, the whole- gay thing”, he laughs and Louis kisses him. “Asked if we’d be willing to teach him.”

            “We’re _so_ willing to teach him, aren’t we?” Louis smiles.

            “We are?”

            “We are! We can invite them to the game, yeah? We can have lunch and then go to the game, ‘s gonna be wicked.”

            Harry kisses him right then, because he can see how _happy_ Louis is that _he’s_ happy. Louis was already happy, yeah, of course he was, his sisters were there, finally. But as soon as Harry told him about his day with Des, Louis got even _happier_ , genuinely glad, for Harry. And Harry loves him so much for it.

            The kiss starts innocently and close mouthed, but it doesn’t take more than thirty seconds for Louis’ tongue to invade Harry’s mouth and take control of everything. Louis kneels on each side of Harry, who supports his back on the headboard and tilts his head back, so Louis can deepen the kiss.

            “God, I missed your mouth”, Louis says to his lips, going back to kissing him.

            Harry’s hands wander automatically to Louis’ asscheeks and squeeze them, massage them, making Louis’ moan into his mouth and provoking the same reaction on himself. Louis has a tight grip on his hair and guides his head however he wants to, never stopping the kiss, making them both so breathless they need to break apart.

            Louis doesn’t stop, though, he goes straight to Harry’s neck and lets his body fall on his boyfriend’s lap again, this time sitting on Harry’s crotch and moving in circles, turning Harry’s semi into a full hard-on almost instantly.

            “Lou”, Harry whines and grinds down, letting out a moan of his own when his cock rubs on Harry’s through the fabric of their boxes. “Hnpf- _Louis_ ”, he calls.

            “Tell me what you want, baby”, Louis asks in his ear, taking his earlobe in his mouth and nipping on it.

            “Want you to fuck me—please, _shit_ ”, he swears when Louis circles his hips again right on top of Harry’s really, really hard dick.

            Louis moves from him and he’s about to complain when he realizes he’s on his bedside drawer, probably looking for lube. He hears some noises but doesn’t really look in that direction anymore, too focused on not touching himself once he’s out of his boxer.

            “Hazz”, Louis calls, “tell me you have lube in your suitcase.”

            “Why would I? Came straight from China”, he answers him, looking at his boyfriend worriedly.

            “You don’t _take it_ with you? What about fingers? Dildos?” Louis asks exasperatedly.

            “Not’nymore, not since we- I really just want your cock, not a dildo”, he says and Louis moans at that, coming on top of him again and taking his cock into his hand.

            “I love you”, Louis kisses him again, desperately. Harry says _I love you_ back and makes Louis’ still clothed crotch rub on his. _God._ “How badly do you wanna be fucked tonight?” He asks on Harry’s lips, supporting his body weight with each hand by Harry’s head.

            “ _Badly_ ”, is all he answers.

            “Kay”, Louis breathes out, “okay. Hang in there then.”

            And gets up, just like that, going into his closet and coming back fully clothed with joggers, vans and a shirt.

            “I out of lube, but I’m gonna run to the drugstore, so- yeah. Hang in there.” He says breathlessly, reaching for his car key.

            “ _How_ are you out of lube? We? I mean- what kind of gay couple are we, really?” Harry throws his head back and laughs in pure frustration.

            “The kind who used every single drop last time we were together and forgot to buy more, obviously”, Louis snorts. “I’ll be right back, babe”, he says and kisses him. “ _Do not come_ ”, and leaves the bedroom.

           

-

 

            Louis loves his neighborhood, really, but there’s nothing worse than the fact that there isn’t a single drugstore close enough for him to walk to – at least not one that’s open 24/7. So he drives ten minutes south and finally reaches one and _fucking really_ , how is it possible that at half past midnight on a week day there is a _line_ at a place like this?

            He grabs what he needs – and by what he needs he means _five_ bottles of lube with different flavors – and walks towards the registers, waiting not-so patiently for the old lady (seriously, an old lady, at half past midnight!) to finish telling her story to the _only_ cashier in there.

            That’s when he gets the text.

            **I might not come, but I sure as hell ain’t doing nothing ;)** , Harry said. _What?_ Another one comes then.

            **Getting so ready for you, Lou.**

He doesn’t answer. The last thing he wants is to get (more) worked up now.

            1 **fnigr in** , the third message says. Obviously he’s typing with one hand now.

            _Fuck, fuck, fuck_ , Louis thinks.

            **Two.**

“Sir?” The woman calls him. Amen.

            “Hi”, he says and throws all of the bottles on the counter. She smirks when she sees it and he’s _so_ not in the mood for this.

            “You’re Louis Tomlinson”, she says.

            “I am.”

            “Big fan.”

            “Thanks, love”, he says hurriedly and hands her his credit card.

            “Have a good night, if you know what a mean”, she winks and gives it back to him alongside with his bag.

            “I intend to”, he smiles. “Thanks.”

 

            **So hot for you, Lou** , he reads next. Louis is gonna kill him once he gets there. **Three.** Or fuck him into nothingness.

            He left the house still hard, contained himself inside the drugstore and now here he is, in the car, fucking hard again and wishing he hadn’t had to leave the flat at all, because by now he could be so, so deep in Harry.

            Louis starts the car and doesn’t look at his phone again until he’s stopped at a red light. And he wasn’t going to – who even stops at red lights at this hour these days anymore? But then his phone vibrates between his legs and he just has to look, doesn’t he?

            He shouldn’t have though, because it’s a _picture_ this time. Louis knuckles go white so hard he squeezes the steering wheel and his cock throbs inside his jeans. He presses one hand down on his crotch to try and relief the pressure, but how can he stay calm when Harry’s sprawled on the bed, dark curls contrasting on the white sheets, back arched and three fingers deep into his ass? He’s sweaty and he’s perfect and the light goes green but Louis can’t trust himself to move.

            He calls Harry then.

            “Fuck you”, he says as soon Harry answers.

            “ _That’s your job_ ”, he whispers into the phone. _“I am so ready for you, Lou- got my fingers so wet with my own tongue… They’re not yours, though-  I need you, Lou.”_

“Harry, I need to drive, shut up-shut UP”, he says exasperatedly.

            “ _You’re the one who called”_ , Harry laughs and then moans. God, Louis hopes his sisters are in deep sleep, because if Harry’s moaning like _that_ all by himself, once Louis is fucking him into oblivion he will _scream_.

            “That picture, babe”, he whines and starts driving again.

            “ _I’m waiting-oh”_ , sinful. Harry’s voice is _sinful_ and Louis foot presses harder on the gas pedal. If he dies tonight, he’ll day a happy sexually frustrated young man.

            The last three minutes of the drive are with Harry moaning into his ear and Louis’ dick pulsing inside his pants. Pure torture, pure pleasure – he can’t decide.

 

            “Stop touching yourself right the fuck now and get on your hands and knees”, Louis demands as soon as he enters the room.

            The way Harry does just _that_ , no questions asked, no complains, makes Louis want to scream right there by the door. He takes off his clothes and moves to the bed not even looking at the bottles of lube, just picking one and getting on the bed himself.

            He attaches his mouth to Harry’s back and both hands under his body to tug on his nipples, letting his teeth trace from his upper back to his ass, hands moving on his torso and- and Harry lets out sounds that shouldn’t be _possible_ and so hot and-

            “What were you thinking with those texts, hm?” Louis demands, opening the bottle of lube and doing his best to put some in his fingers with only one hand. “Did you think that was a good idea?” He asks and bites on Harry’s asscheeks, his clean hand moving to his hair and pulling on the strands.

            “Ye-yes”, he replies breathlessly, brokenly.

            “Oh really?” Louis asks and bites again, harder. Harry moans, because, apparently, that’s all he can do.

            “Got you- _shit_ , got you hard, didn’t I?” He replies and Louis can hear the smile on his voice.

            “What d’you think?” Louis scream-whispers and presses his cock between Harry’s asscheeks, moaning loudly this time too, finally getting some friction there. “Let’s see if you’re ready then” Louis says as he shoves three fingers into his hole without any warning.

            “FUCK”, Harry screams. “JESUS CHRIST, LOUIS”, and doesn’t stop screaming as Louis massages his prostate and kisses the back of his neck.

            Harry turns his head and almost begs for Louis’ mouth and tongues meet before their lips do, and it’s so filthy and so good that at some point Louis doesn’t know who’s moaning louder into each other’s mouth, but it’s been too long since they fucked like this and Louis absolutely _loves it,_ him, everything about this moment.

            “Gonna fuck you so good, babe, _so damn good_ ”, Louis whispers into his ear. “Is that what you want?” He asks.      

            “It-it, _oh Louis, now_ ”, he grunts when Louis presses his fingers into him again. He presses on his spot for a few seconds and Harry’s _desperate_ to just grab his own cock, he’s sure, but he doesn’t, because he knows Louis doesn’t want him to.

            “ _No-oo”_ he whines when Louis extracts his fingers, “I want you in me, c’mon, Lou, just ne-FUCKFUCKFUCK”  he screams once Louis thrusts into him without any warning whatsoever, not waiting for Harry to get used to it, bottoming out and retracting quickly, just so he can pound into him again, _“Lou”_ he breathes out, already so, so wrecked.

            “ _Just take it, H_ ”, he says and tugs on Harry’s wrists, holding them on his back so Harry’s face down on the bed, completely at Louis’ mercy. “I’m gonna destroy you.”

            “Yes, _ple-ah-ple---please”_ , he chants, “pleasepleaseplease.”

            And Louis does. He fucks him hard and fast and non-stop. His own hair is glued to his forehead and there’s sweat running down his chest, but it’s _so_ good that he can’t stop, can’t go slower. He just thrusts into Harry’s _tight,_ warm, wet hole and bites hard on his bottom lip, certain that he draws blood at some point.

            With one hand he holds Harry’s wrists and with the other he scratches his back, dragging loud guttural sounds out of his boyfriend, who’s left cheek is pressed into the mattress, eyes closed and mouth agape.

            “So good, love- so fucking- _H”,_ Louis says. “You’re so-you---”

            “ _Lou_ , he moans.

            “You’re amazing, Harry”, he says, never stopping thrusting. “So perfect, babe.” And then he pulls all out, thrusting back in and only pressing into his prostate. He doesn’t thrust, he just stays there, grinding down and pressing  Harry’s whole body to the mattress now, so his cock and get some friction.           

            He releases Harry’s hands and moves them upwards, on each side of his head, and covers them with his own hands, intertwining their fingers the best he can so he can start thrusting again, slower this time, on a sexier pace.

            “You close, love?” He asks lowly in his ear. He hopes he is.

            “So close”, Harry cries out.           

            “Good, me too”, he says, going as deep as he can. Harry spreads his legs on the bed, inner thighs tough beautifully on the mattress, cheeks open and inviting, still so, so tight and so good. “Just come for me yeah? Can you do that?” Louis says in his ear. “Can you come for me, babe?” He asks as Harry writhes underneath him, not sure if he wants to rub his dick on the sheets and get some friction there or meet Louis’ thrusts and get him deeper into his ass.

            “Only if you come _in_ me first”, Harry says then and opens his eyes and _fuck_.

            Louis isn’t sure how it happens, he just sees Harry’s glassy eyes and the overwhelming pleasure hits him unexpectedly, making him come hard inside of his boyfriend, pulling out in time to paint his back with white ropes as well. Harry follows him as soon as he feels the warm liquid on his lower back, moaning considerately low for someone who was almost a megaphone on his own ten minutes ago.

            He falls back by his side and strokes his hair as soon as Harry turns on his side. There’s a complete mess under and between them, but neither makes a move to go anywhere.

            “Hi, there”, Harry says first. Louis feels spent.

            “I want to have sex this good for the rest of my life”, is what he replies, not really paying attention to the implication of his sentence.

            “Just keep me around then”, he says and raises one hand to stroke lightly on Louis upper arm.

            “That’s my plan.”

            Harry’s smile can rival the sun when he grins.

           

            They agree on Harry changing the sheets and Louis showering. And then when Harry showers, again, Louis makes them tea.

            When they’re finally together on the bed again, it’s three am and they’re worn out. Louis turns off the lights and hits the pillow, but moves as soon as Harry says he wants to be cuddled.

            Louis buries his face in his curls, kisses the back of his head and whispers a thousand _I love yous_. The only reply he gets is Harry intertwining their fingers and kissing his knuckles, and he knows it means _I know, I love you too_.       

            He never thought he’d go to sleep so content in his entire life.

 

-

 

            Louis wakes up before Harry, which’s unusual. He takes his time to appreciate his features and only then realizes how young Harry looks, how young he actually _is_. He feels overwhelmed by this feeling of completeness and- and a _love_ that makes him feel like he can explode at any given moment.

            He checks the clock and sees it’s still eight am, he curses three generations mentally, because he just wanted to sleep _more_ , but also knows he won’t be able to, so he kisses the other model’s forehead and sits on the bed, checking his phone and replying the more important texts before moving to the kitchen.

            Félicité and Charlotte are already there, laughing quietly and drinking what it looks like milk.

            “Morning”, he says. His voice still a bit rough since he’s just woken up.

            “Congratulations, you’re an Avenger in bed”, Lottie says. “And good morning.”

            “What?” He asks incredulously.

            “Please, Lou- harder Lou”, she says. “Really”, and rolls her eyes.

            “I should feel more embarrassed by this, but it’s _really_ a compliment, so”, he shrugs. “Hope you’re not traumatized, though”, he chuckles.

            “We can handle it”, Fizzy laughs and passes him the milk. “He’s clearly good as well, _so perfect_ ”, she tries to imitate Louis’ voice.

            “Ok, I’m definitely sound-proofing my walls.” The girls laugh and then he feels his cheeks get a bit warm. “You’re not even old enough to know about sex anyway.”

            “You’re so funny”, Lottie rolls her eyes. “Does he- does he live here?”

            “No”, Louis answers her carefully, but just because he doesn’t know where the conversation is going. “He lives in Los Angeles.”

            “Really?” His younger sister asks disbelievingly.

            “Yeah, with his best mate.”

            “When was the last time he was there?” Fizzy asks.

            “I don’t know, to be honest, but we were both traveling for work-”

            “And before that he was here?” Louis nods. “You guys are so whipped.”

            “We are”, a deep voice agrees.

            “Shut up”, he chuckles and turns around to see Harry coming towards them.

            “Bed was cold”, he shrugs. “Oh- I should’ve put some clothes on”, he looks at them apologetic. He’s only on his briefs, his hair’s a mess, and he has a huge purple mark on his neck and another on his arm that Louis doesn’t even remember how it wound up there. When Harry turns around, his back’s scratched. Louis blushes evidently this time, while Harry seems unfazed.

            “Oh, no, please keep walking like this around here…” Lottie says.

            “Stop ogling my boyfriend”, Louis tells her.

            “I’ll put on a shirt”, Harry says definitively then and turns around.

            When he comes back, with a shirt that clearly belongs to Louis, he says he’ll make some pancakes and moves in the kitchen like it’s his. Louis and the girls talk to him while he cooks and make plans for the day and the rest of the week.

            Louis is secretly making plans for the rest of their lives and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t act on them.

            As he eats the first bite of the pancake, he thinks that he needs to finally give Harry the spare key he talked about a couple of days ago, and when they start getting ready to go out and Harry’s looking for his jeans in his suitcase, Louis thinks he’ll wait at least one more month till the asks Harry to officially move in, but already tells him to unload whatever he wants in his closet.

            And when they’re out of the flat and Liam texts him that Simon’s _yes_ came through and they’re releasing the first part of the interview online now (the other one on next month’s spread), he doesn’t even feel scared.

            And when the paparazzi gather around them on an ordinary street in London, firing questions at him and the girls, and Harry tells them oh-so-kindly to fuck off, Louis loves him more. And by realizing he loves him more with each moment that passes, with every actions Harry takes, he realizes that that, right there, is the reason why this won’t end.

            Louis didn’t fall in love with Harry. He walked in on it. It was slow and it was a build-up. It still is, and it’s also the only direction they’re going. Up. They’re on a rollercoaster that never goes down, but it isn’t scary at all, on the contrary: the thrill of knowing their feelings for each other can only grow is what makes Louis more excited about the future than he’s ever been.

 

            He sometimes reminds himself that he almost skipped that party – the one Simon threw to celebrate Modest’s twenty-fifth anniversary. He almost went out of country that night instead of the morning after, and he almost didn’t go to the bar to talk to Giorgio Armani. Hadn’t it been for Eleanor pressuring him to wear that outdated suit and then pushing him towards the man, Louis’ path may have never crossed with Harry’s that night.

            But it did.

 

            In 2015, hadn’t it been for Zayn dragging him to the New Year’s Eve party, chances are he’d still hate Harry by now, too.

            Every decision Louis has ever made could have led him to a different path.      

            You see… His life, that is now so settled, so specific, has all been built on _happenstance_.

            He owes fate big time, he thinks.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YES, there will be an epilogue, because YES, I am a sucker for domestic, older, happily married Larry, no matter the universe, haha.
> 
> All the love in the entire world,  
> M.


	13. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When you find [the one](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xLPGtQoRUbk), forever is just a breath away.

 

 

_“But do you feel like a young god? You know the two of us are just young gods.”_

            Harry is going to murder Louis, he swears. They haven’t seen each other in a whole month. ONE MONTH. They’ve been together for two and a half years now and they’ve never gone this long without seeing each other; they always try and manage to work around their schedules and this time Louis didn’t even _try_ to go and visit Harry in Puerto Rico, because he was just _too busy_ in NYC.

            He understood when he said it then, because Louis _has been_ working his ass off since he decided to start his own line.

            About six months ago he told Harry he was getting kind of tired of photoshoots and stuff like that, but just because he felt like that was what he’d been doing his entire life. Then he opened a box that always intrigued Harry, which was always in Louis’s closet, and showed him many, many drawings.

            According to him, he didn’t think he could draw, but he liked the ideas. And Harry could see it: the lines weren’t perfect and the models were all faceless, but he looked at them and he could see those clothes coming to life, and he could picture the tissues Louis would like to use and the complete lack of patterns because _I can’t stand those flashy things as fashion statements anymore, Harold, no matter how much you love your flower shirts_.

            That night Harry was able to picture the kind of designer Louis would become, and he could feel his heart almost exploding so proud he was. That night Harry found out that it didn’t matter the path Louis chose to cross, he’d follow him to the end of times – as sappy and exaggerated as it may have seemed.

            Things haven’t changed since then, and Louis seems to actually _want_ Harry to follow him around; he doesn’t pick up his damn phone and Harry has _no_ idea of where he is. The last time they spoke to each other was the day before and Louis didn’t mention traveling, so Harry _swore_ he’d still be in New York.

            That’s why when Harry enters Louis’ flat – the one he rented a couple of months ago – and doesn’t find him there, he fishes his phone out of his pocket and sends Louis dozens of texts that go unanswered for the next hours. He takes a shower, changes his clothes and goes to the kitchen to try and find something to eat, jetlag killing him already. Glued to the fridge, there’s a message.

            _Dear Harold,_ it reads, _if you’re reading this I assume you’ve already tried to call me a hundred times and sent me a bunch of angry texts. Sorry, love. If you want to find me, pick up the ticket I left on my bedside drawer and get to the airport. You’re probably already late. I love you. Lou._

It starts like this. A ticket to Los Angeles.

            Harry’s tired and he needs some sleep and he’s pretty sure he’s got bags under his eyes, but LA isn’t that far now is it?

            He has an hour and a half to get to the airport and no time to eat a proper meal, so he just makes a quick sandwich and texts Niall, asking him to pick him up when he gets there and hails a cab to JFK.

 

            “Missed you, bro”, is what Niall says as soon as he gets into the car. “You look angry, why are you angry?”

            “Louis is making me play hide-and-seek with him and _really_ Niall, all I wanted was to get home, be fucked and sleep for the next fifteen hours, but _nooooo_ let’s make Harry go to New York, _not_ be there and then send him to Los Angeles and not even bother to pick him up at the damn airport”, he huffs. He should sound angrier than he really is. “Missed you too, by the way”, he finishes and Niall laughs, putting on some music and driving Harry to his house.

            For a year now, Niall’s been really, really rich. Eight months after he moved to LA to that shitty flat he’d rented with Harry, he started making money and moved into a bigger flat. And then he helped produce Zayn’s latest album, and now he’s got _real_ money – the kind of money that allows him to visit his parents or pay for his parents to visit him whenever he wants, the kind of money that lets him have a mansion in Beverly Hills, the kind of money that will give him his own music studio one day. Niall’s made it. Harry’s really proud.

            “Is he in a meeting or something?” Harry asks.

            “Oh, no. He’s not here”, Niall says as he parks his car in his garage and gets out of it, making his way to the backdoor.

            “What d’you mean _he’s not_ _here_?” Harry asks following him.

            “Right. I suppose I should have started with this then”, Niall hands him a crumpled paper that was in his pocket. “He’s not in LA”, his friend shrugs and goes into the kitchen. “Beer?” He yells.

            “Please”, Harry groans and flops on the couch to read the note.

            _DON’T BE ANGRY_ , is the first thing, Harry snorts. And then there’s another small text:

            _Did you know Zayn’s playing the O2 Arena tomorrow night? Liam and Stan will be there too, and they got your backstage pass. Be there, or this won’t work. And this needs to work. Ok. I love you. Ask Niall for your bag. Bye._

            “My boyfriend’s gone insane”, Harry says as Niall sits by his side.

            “He’s always been”, Niall laughs and hands him a longneck. “Your bag’s upstairs, by the way. You can sleep and I’ll take you to the airport in the morning.”

            “What bag?”

            “You do realize you forgot your suitcases in New York, right?”

            And… Yeah. Harry left the NY flat so quickly that he completely bypassed his baggage that had been left in the living room when he entered, showering and changing into some of Louis’ clothes instead.

 

            He keeps talking to Niall and notices how much he’d truly missed him, with all the craziness that’s been going on in his life as well.

            Harry worked exclusively for YSL for one year, and when the time came to renew the contract, there were a bunch of other brands he could choose from, and he and Olivia decided it’d be best if he didn’t keep being a _one-brand_ kind of model – which resulted on him wearing Versace on his Vogue cover at the beginning of the year.

            Harry works for three brands regularly right now – Versace, Gucci and Hugo Boss. Things are great.

 

            When sleep takes him over, he excuses himself to one of the guest rooms and closes his eyes drifting into nothingness faster than he imagined he would. He always sleeps poorly when he’s alone, and he’s been doing it for far too long now. He still wants to murder his boyfriend.

 

            From LA, he flies to London, straight to the venue, where Zayn hugs him, tells him he’s missed him and hands him yet another note. This time, Louis only says _please enjoy the concert_ _and don’t let Stan forget to hand you your new note_. Because of course Louis isn’t in England, but Harry had figured out as much.

            So he sits between Liam and Stan while Zayn entertains them and thousands of other people with his incredible voice and performance, and they all go to dinner together. Zayn and Liam don’t look like they’re together anymore and Harry doesn’t dare to ask, but Louis says it’s some kind of weird arrangement until Zayn goes on break and Liam gets some vacation – seeing as he’s the new editor in chief of GQ right now. Apparently they can’t manage distance as well as Harry and Louis.

 

            “You’re supposed to give me another note?” Harry asks Stan when they exit the restaurant.

            “Yeah, here…” Stan hands it to him. “I’d love to drive you to Heathrow, but I’ve got a game in Manchester in the afternoon, so…”

            “I’ll take him, I got the plane ticket”, Liam says.

            “Why is he doing this?” Harry asks.

            “Probably because he’s bored…” Zayn shrugs. “I mean, it’s Lou, so you never know”, he snorts. “All right, I’m knackered, I gotta so”, he says then when the valet brings his car almost at the same time as a paparazzo takes a picture of them all.

            “Good to see you, Z”, Harry hugs him.

            “You too, H”, he smiles over his shoulder and Harry can feel it. Over the years they became really good friends. Harry loves him a whole lot.

            “Figure your shit out, yeah?” He whispers and Zayn only squeezes his shoulder tighter, as if he’s saying _I’m trying_.

            Zayn eyes Liam like he’s pleading _will you please come with me_? and the journalist gives him a small nod, moving to hug Harry as well.           

             “Be at your flat at three pm, be ready. Bye, Styles.” And gets into the car with his soon-to-be-again boyfriend.

            “C’mon, Harry, I’ll give you a ride home”, Stan says and takes his car key from the valet as well.

            The first time someone referred to Louis’ ( _their_ ) flat as Harry’s home, he almost burst into tears. That flat has been Harry’s home for a long, long time now.

 

            Everything’s dark when he enters it, but he can hear a soft noise coming from Fizzy’s room so he figures she’s home, just sleeping – she always forgets to turn off the TV.

            Lottie is in Paris for an internship and a semester abroad, and they visit her as much as they can. It’s happened four times now, and they’re planning on doing it again.

            Harry knows he needs another shower, but he can’t bring his body to leave the bed as soon as he hits it. He knows it’s cute and super romantic whatever it is that Louis is doing, but he truly hates airplanes and traveling alone, so doing it so much almost every day is more like some kind of torture than anything.

 

            It feels like he’s just closed his eyes when there’s a knock on the door and Félicité comes in bearing two mugs of tea.

            “Morning”, she says.

            “Hey”, he smiles and hugs her the best he can. “Morning, what time is it?”

            “Nine thirty”, she says. “Your dad’s coming to take us to lunch, so I figured you’d like some time to be properly awake and shower and everything…”

            “I- yeah, thanks”, he says. “How were finals?” He asks, because she’s just finished another year at school and he wasn’t here.

            “Good. I actually had time to study everything—even though it felt like I didn’t sleep for two weeks”, he laughs.

            It’s not like he and Louis are _parenting_ , especially because _they_ are still very, very young. But… It kind of is. Harry keeps Fizzy’s grades in check and always calls Lottie to know how things are going in uni. Louis does the same, even though he’s more like _I need to approve of your boyfriends_ and _are you sure you’re going to this party?_ kind of responsible.

 

            Harry’s relationship with his dad has gone from 0 to 100, and although it wasn’t quick or easy, it was worth it. It still is – for the birthdays, and Christmases, and games. For simple lunches, like this one – in which they joke, and talk, and Harry tells him about his latest trip, Fizzy pretends to be jealous and Des just says he is really happy and really proud of him. It always gets Harry emotional.

            When Des drops them off at the flat again, right after three, he hugs Harry and asks him to tell Louis he’s said _yes, of course, yes_. Harry totally doesn’t try and find the hidden meaning of this, and just nods and says, _ok, dad_.

 

-

 

            “So, I’m supposed to tell you to go straight to the hotel you guys properly fucked for the first time”, Liam tells him when they arrive at Heathrow airport that afternoon.

            “He made you use these words, didn’t he?” Harry asks with a smirk.

            “Oh, he wanted me to use some other words that I totally refused cause I _didn’t_ need to know that much about your sex life”, Liam laughs and hands him the ticket. “This is the last one, though”, he says.

            “Thank God”, Harry laughs relieved. “He’d better fuck me as thoroughly as he did that night against that hotel table or I swear to God-”

            “TOO. MUCH. INFORMATION”, Liam screams laughing and Harry laughs along.

            “C’mon, Li, gimme a hug”, he says and his friends opens his arms. “Did you and Zayn make up yesterday?”

            “We’re not fighting”, he mumbles on his shoulder. “It’s all good.”   

            “Yeah, yeah, okay.”

            “Hey, tell Louis I am writing this story-- and if you sell it to Vogue before giving me an exclusive I’ll kill you both”, Liam smiles kindly.           

            “What story?” Harry asks.

            “The one he’s creating”, is what he answers and waves Harry away.

 

-

 

            _Prince Di Savoia_ hotel is still the same as Harry remembers and it holds a special place in his heart. _Yes_ it is where he and Louis _fucked_ for the first time, as he so romantically made Liam say, but it’s also where he stayed when he came to Milan in his first Fashion Week, when he was still uncertain of how things were gonna go for him.

            Thinking back, now, Harry can’t believe how far he’s come. He’s done some great stuff with the money he’s already made and he’s been really, really happy with the way his life turned out.

            It’s almost eight pm when he gets to the lobby and having slept greatly the night before, he doesn’t feel too tired as he makes his way to the counter.

            “Harry Styles”, he says and smiles at the man across from him.

            “Mr. Styles, yes, we’ve been waiting for you”, he smiles and looks back to his computer screen. “Mr. Tomlinson left you a note”, he says then. _Of course_.

            Harry thanks him and gets his room key, opening the note and reading it in the lift.

            _Hi, Hazz. I’m sorry I made you travel so much._

_I know you must be extra tired, but there’s a bath waiting for you at this moment – if the lovely lady that works at the hotel remembered, which I’m hoping she did, to prepare it. Asked for extra bubbles and everything! So please, relax, but not too much. I still need to see you tonight!_

_By the way: Louis Vuitton suits you perfectly. Open the closet._

_A car will pick you up at nine. So hurry. I love you. Lou._

            Harry smiles dumbly at the note and pockets it, entering the room to find his suitcase already there and a smell of roses coming from the ensuite. He wants to cry how much he loves Louis. He knew he’d need warm water to just get reenergized it didn’t matter how hot the weather was.

            He undresses and gets into the bathtub, closing his eyes for ten minutes before thinking about doing anything else. He then starts to scrub himself and when the water goes from lukewarm to cold he finally gets up, towels himself and moves back to the bedroom, going straight for the closet door and finding a _Louis Vuitton_ gray suit and a pair of dress shoes by its side.

            For the thousandth time since he got to NY, he does everything not to think about what all of this means and puts on his perfect clothes, making his way downstairs, where the car’s probably already waiting for him.

 

            “Can I ask where we’re going?” He questions the driver.

            “The Summer Cave, mister Styles”, the driver answers with his strong Italian accent.

            “Sorry, I don’t know where that is…” He says.

            “It’s in _Grotta Palazzese_ , a hotel-restaurant.”

            Harry still doesn’t know where that is but he smiles politely and thanks him, typing the words on google and trying to figure out where he’s going. The connection is shit, though, so he just waits for the next long minutes.

           

-

 

            When they arrive at _Hotel Ristoranti Grotta Palazzese_ , Harry doesn’t know if he can breathe. Yes, they’ve been to many beautiful places, together and separately, but as soon as he steps into the _Summer Cave_ , the restaurant Louis is supposedly – no, definitely – waiting for him, he’s taken aback by its beauty.

 

                                         

 

                                                                   

 

              The place is naturally lit by the aqua marine reflection from the waters and it’s _so_ romantic and _so_ — _so_ Louis. And so, so Harry. There are a few people in different tables, but when a beautiful woman comes to him and points him where they are going, he can immediately spot Louis in the distance, and the only thing in his mind is that even though the place _is_ mesmerizing, nothing can never, will ever compare to this man. The one he is so, so, so in love with.

            Louis is wearing a dark blue suit, but the blazer is open revealing a white shirt that contrasts perfectly with his skin tone. His hair’s styled and fluffy, it isn’t down, but it isn’t exactly a quiff either – it’s Harry’s favorite hair on Louis.

            “Hi, handsome”, he smiles and gets up when Harry approaches, and Harry lets himself be hugged, because he needs it, he needs to be in Louis’ arm more than he needs anything at the moment. “I’ve missed you”, he says in his ear in that small voice and makes Harry’s entire body shiver.

            “Missed you too”, he says pressed to his chest. Even though he’s taller, he always makes himself small – that’s how he feels taken care of, even if they’re in the middle of a restaurant right now.

            They kiss briefly and then Louis pulls him a chair. They’re facing the sea and the warm breeze of the summer in Italy is very much welcomed by Harry, who can’t take this stupid grin off his face.

            Louis catches his hand on the table and makes small circles with his thumb.

            “How tired are you?” He asks smiling.

            “Right now?” Harry asks. “Not even a little bit”. And he’s shining, he’s sure he is.

            A waiter comes with a bottle of a 2013 _Sauvignon_ wine and it’s like a blessing. Harry _so_ needs it.

           

            Dinner goes smoothly, but then again, Louis wasn’t worried about that part. Sure he knows Harry’s curious to know what they’re doing here, but if he’s as smart as Louis knows he is, he must’ve have figured it out by now and is just talking himself out of it so he won’t be disappointed. _Silly, silly boy,_ Louis thinks.

            Truth be told, he didn’t have to do all of this, and when Harry asks _why didn’t you send me straight here_? right after they had dessert, Louis’ answer is on the tip of his tongue.

            “I know you missed Niall, so I wanted you to see him…” He explains. “As for London… Zayn’s gig was circumstantial—I just really needed you to see your dad”, he says. “Figured he’d give you a message for me?” Louis asks hopefully.

            “Yeah”, Harry smiles. The wine colored his lips and they’re now even _redder_ , contrasting to his porcelain face. Louis loves every bit of this man. He loves him, _he loves him_ , he _loves him,_ he wants him _forever_ and he can’t wait any minute longer.

            “What did he say then?” He smiles. He isn’t even nervous. _Excited_ is the better word.

            “He asked me to tell you he said _yes, of course, yes_ …” Harry says as he takes Louis’ hand and squeezes it.

            “Good, good-” he can’t help but smile. “Guess yours is the only yes I need now, then.”

            “Lou-”

            He wasn’t going to do it. He wasn’t going to get up and get down on one knee, because he hates clichés. He doesn’t understand the need. But Harry- Harry loves clichés. Louis surrenders who he is for Harry. So he does it. He drops to one knee in the middle of a restaurant in Italy of all places.

            “Louis.”

            “Just please say you’ll be mine forever, Harry Styles”, he whispers. “Please, _please_ tell me you want to spend the rest of our long, long lives with me, and that we’ll eventually move out of the flat to a big house with our big, big family. And that we’ll still be as in love as we are right now. Because I am so, so in love with you right now”, he breathes out through the tears that are spilling form his eyes. Harry’s already a sobbing mess in his chair. “I didn’t think one person could feel like this- it’s more than I’ve ever _imagined_ when I read novels and watched romcoms…” He laughs, Harry does too.

            “It’s bigger than anything, Harry”, Louis states truthfully. “And whenever I think I’ve reached a limit, my heart just- kind of expands? And then I love you more.” Shakily, he takes the small box out of his pocket.

            He vaguely registers a waitress placing a bottle of champagne and two glasses on their table, before he looks into Harry’s emerald eyes again.

            “Babe—” he says first, because Harry doesn’t stop crying. And he scoots closer, clears his eyes with one hand. “If you cry- you can’t tell me. And I need you to tell me.” Louis says, a sob already formed in his own throat.

            “I- I’m.”

            “Will you marry me, Hazz?”

            It’s impossible to understand the noise he’s just made, but Louis lets himself be manhandled into a different position so Harry can hug him by the neck and press kisses wherever he can reach. He feels Harry’s wet cheeks on his shoulder and neck and cheeks and he doesn’t stop saying _yesyesyes_ until he reaches his mouth, kissing him with a final, clear, _yes_.        

            He thought it’d be desperate and fast, but it’s the complete opposite. Harry kisses him slowly and deeply, sliding his tongue carefully against Louis’ own making the entire world stop because of this moment. They’re both crying while their hands wander each other’s faces, arms, backs. They’re both smiling, too. And when their teeth crash because they can’t stop grinning, they move away just one bit, foreheads still connected.

            “I love you too”, Harry says when he catches his breath. “And it’s ridiculous to say it, because- because I’m _so_ scared that these words lose meaning one day. If they do, Lou- if you ever feel like they’re not enough—just- just know that right now, I am so, so in love with you it physically hurts. Nothing compares to the way my heart’s beating right now, and I’m pretty sure it’ll be like this forever— and when we move into that big house you were talking about, with our big, big family, I hope they’ve already invented new words.”

            “And if they haven’t?” Louis asks, fondness overtaking his voice.

            “Then I’ll just have to learn how to say _I love you_ in every possible language.”

            (He does it. And on each anniversary they travel to the place where the language comes from just so Harry can say it there.)

            “I cannot wait to marry you, Louis Tomlinson”, he says. And yeah, Louis can understand.

 

 

-

 

            They get married in Bali (because _of course_ ) in February, right after Harry’s birthday. It’s a small ceremony that only their closest friends attend. They go to Spain and then Greece in their honeymoon, and when they come back it’s just _work work work_ for months on end.

            Louis’ first designs come to life in the middle of the year and by the end of it his line has been approved, going on sale at Barney’s in time for Christmas. After that, Burberry offers him a position – he takes it. Harry’s still modeling by then, and he becomes the best and most paid one in the field – still every bit as goofy and humble. A tad hotter, because he just gets better in time. If he signs an exclusive deal with Burberry that lasts until he retires, then nobody can blame him.

 

-

 

            “… _When you fall in love, it’s supposed to be awful. Awful, uncertain, scary, wonderful, confusing, all at once. That’s how you know it’s real. Harry made me feel all of those things the first night we met_.” Louis reads and smiles sheepishly while Harry grins at him, waiting for him to continue. “ _Styles agrees and says that, sometimes, he thinks he and Louis were born from the same star, joking that they’re star crossed lovers,_ you sap!” He slaps Harry’s arm when he finishes the sentence.

            “ _Living in a mansion in Camden town now, Harry affirms that it doesn’t feel like his life is ending just because he won’t be in the runaways anymore. “It was the right decision”, he says. We couldn’t agree more. Styles and Tomlinson just had twins, and we, from GQ are more than pleased to be the ones to tell you that. We wish the couple all the happiness in the world.”_

They finish reading the story of their lives together and it’s… It’s amazing. They’ll have to thank Liam for such beautiful writing.

 

            15 year old Louis didn’t think he’d have a future when he ran through the back door of that small house in Doncaster almost twenty years ago. 15 year old Louis would laugh in the face of anyone who told him he’d end up anywhere but alone in the streets.

            That boy didn’t know a thing, did he?

            “Hey, love, what are you thinking?” Harry asks when he realizes Louis is immersed in memories.

            Louis closes the magazine and looks at Harry. Years have passed and he still sees the world in one person – and two tiny little ones, now, that are sleeping next door.

            “That my teenage self was so, so wrong”, he laughs weakly.

            “I bet he’s pretty pissed—you hate being wrong, every version of you hates being wrong”, his husband laughs and kisses him.

            “Nah, not this time”, he says and closes the distance between them one more time.

            [God Only Knows](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AOMyS78o5YI) is playing in the background, and everything’s right in the world.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for finishing this journey with me <3  
> Just some considerations that I forgot to mention earlier:
> 
> 1) The proposal restaurant isn't exactly in Milan, but I needed to make it as romantic as possible with them going back to that place - and I honestly fell in love with Summer Cave. So... I'm sorry?  
> 2) Bali doesn't have same-sex marriage legalized, but I thought of it as only a celebration :)))
> 
> -
> 
> I've started another one, called [Over Again](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6034552/chapters/13837945), in case you wanna read it.
> 
> (PLUS, I'm in desperate need of a beta. I can't keep editing my stuff - I always miss something and it drives me insane when I catch it weeks later. Can you help me? Pretty pretty please?)
> 
> See you around, hopefully.  
> M, xx.  
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/ifmelcouldfly/with_replies) | [tumblr](http://downgoesanotherhero.tumblr.com/)


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